Stalking Lily Evans
by bluebottlebutterfly
Summary: It has been suggested that James observe Lily, learn more about her, figure out ways to get her to like him that don't involve his tongue. Notepassing, observations, and general prickiness abound.
1. Varying Degrees of Prickiness

Stalking Lily Evans 

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Chapter One: Varying Degrees of Prickiness ****

**--**

**A quick A/N before we ('we', I mean you, I guess) start: **Hi! This a companion piece to "Deflating", in which you see James's Stalking Lily Evans journals—all of them. Rather, all parts of them, because I don't think he kept more than one.

Anyway, it _is _a companion piece, and, while you can probably get the gist of the story from these scribblings, it might be a bit confusing in parts if you haven't read "Deflating". Might want to read that before you start this. Because James rambles a lot, and sometimes you can't understand what he's going on about unless you've read about what he's actually talking about.

Also, I will let you know what he's talking about: each chapter contains some of the stuff from the actual chapters of "Deflating". Like this chapter spans chapters…four and five. Click on my username, go to the fic, read the actual chapters. There's bits in here that weren't in those chapters, though, and that's kinda fun.

…it was for me anyway.

Anyway, there's note-passing in here. A lot of note-passing, actually; between James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. The note passing won't ever have names in front of the lines to let you know who said what, but I've always written it like this: **Sirius writes in bold, _Remus in bold italics, _**_Peter in italics, _and James in just plain typeface.

….I think that's it. If there's any more questions (holy Captain Oats, I rambled a lot; I'm sorry), put them in reviews.

Here's the fic!

**---**

**_Monday, 20 November_**

**_11:17 a.m., Arithmancy _**__

Saw Subject at breakfast. Said, "Hi."

She glared at me over her toast and said, "Potter, don't you have somewhere to be?"

I smiled in that very attractive way that, it has to be said, only I can smile, and replied (v. suavely, if I do say so myself), "Where else would I want to be than right here?"

Subject rolled her eyes, bit into her toast, and responded coldly, "Well, I rather thought you'd be polishing your broom or admiring yourself in the mirror or, I don't know, hexing someone because they looked at you for too long."

Actually, I did do that this morning. Hex someone, that is.

It was a Slytherin, and I swear he sneered at me.

He'll be out of the hospital wing in a few days; I don't see what the big deal is.

I didn't say that, though. I said, "No. I thought I'd maybe ask you out?"

Subject started to laugh. "Go play with your friends, Potter," she said.

I really think she's warming up to me.

_**Later on Monday **_

**_1:42 p.m., Transfiguration_**

Moony says that I need to learn to monitor what I say around Subject. To learn the difference between what is acceptable to say to a girl and what I need to keep in my head.

I reckon that's censorship, and I told him so.

He made a face and held up one hand. "Tact," he said, raising the hand a little, and then raising the other. "Celibacy." He moved his hands up and down, like he was a scale and he was weighing the two options.

Celibacy is a strong word.

Sirius said that some of the girls he's gone out with (okay, snogged at the Astronomy Tower for a night) liked the whole 'speak your mind' thing. Said it shortened the whole courting process significantly, which is exactly what I'm looking for at this point in time.

Moony glared and said that girls like Lily didn't appreciate lines like 'What brand are your knickers?'

I don't see why not. She could be very proud about the brand of her knickers. They could be a very expensive pair of knickers, and she could just be waiting for someone to ask her that question so she can brag about it to everyone.

_**Even later on Monday**_

****

**_9:27 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

Asked Subject what brand of knickers she was wearing.

She hexed me.

I now have boils in…uncomfortable…places.

Bugger.

****

**_Tuesday, 21 November _**

****

**_Early. Really early. Like, it's-still-dark-outside early_**

****

Had a dream where an evil, evil demon (who happened to have Moony's face and Snape's hair) forced me to choose: sex with Subject for one night and then impotence for the rest of my natural born life or Subject being moved to China to become a railway prostitute where I would never see her again.

It was really evil because she was standing there in front of me, dancing in a Chinese-Railway-Prostitute-y way, saying, "Pick _meeee _James, I will give you _pleeeeeasure_."

And then, in the dream, I started to cry because I was frustrated and I didn't know what to do, and Subject saw me crying and frowned. She says, "I don't think I could sleep with a swotty little nancy-boy like you." So she disappeared to go off and service railway workers.

While I don't think Subject would ever pass me up for Chinese railway workers, nor would she ever utter the phrase 'swotty little nancy-boy', it was chillingly real.

I woke up sweating.

Doused face in cold water to calm myself and noticed it did wonders for my complexion.

Note to self: splash cold water on face every morning. V. important for skin and brightness of eyes.

Boils have improved.

**_Still Tuesday_**

**_Breakfast_**

Accidentally spilled marmalade on page.

Subject is eating pancakes, I notice. She seems to like syrup a great deal. Her plate is swimming in it. She is drinking milk and chatting with one of her twin friends. I can't tell them apart, and I'm not going to try, because God knows I've got enough to do with Subject herself. Haven't got enough time to research her bloody friends.

May put Mssrs. Wormtail and Padfoot on that, though. Just in case.

Ah, Mr. Padfoot just came downstairs. When I left, he was just starting on tousling his hair, so I knew it'd take him a long time. But that was only twenty minutes ago. And it shows, too: his hair doesn't look nearly messy enough.

"Overslept," he grumbled, reaching for some toast. "Does my hair look okay?"

I lied and said yes, mostly since I had to ask a favor. "Mr. Padfoot, Mr. Prongs was wondering if you and Mr. Wormtail might be so kind as to research Subject's friends."

Padfoot flashed me a disgruntled look over a bite of toast. "I'm not doing your work for you. It's your sodding project."

Padfoot is just grumpy because his hair looks like crap.

"Some friend you are," I mumbled.

"Might be able to convince Wormtail, though," Sirius said thoughtfully. "It's not like he has a social life or anything."

This is true. Must ask.

Time for Charms.

**_Charms_**

****

**_9:16 a.m._**

****

Wormtail is skiving off. Makes sense, we have a Herbology test next hour. Will ask him at lunch. 

Subject is sitting over there, twirling her hair around her finger while she writes…

Padfoot, distract me please.

**Quidditch.**

What?

**I dunno, first thing that came to my mind was 'Quidditch'.**

How about something specific about Quidditch?

**God, I have to do everything. Fine, how about them Arrows?**

That's not working. She's raising her hand…asking an intelligent question…

**I'm handing you over to Moony. You're annoying when you're swoony. **

**_Prongs. Prongs. You are drooling. Please stop. It is disturbing._**

****

**He's not listening.**

**_I know. PRONGS. PRONGS. We're losing him._**

****

**I know. It's sad.**

**_It is. _**

I was not drooling.

**_Saliva escaped your mouth, Prongs. There is a wet spot on your tie. It's disgusting. Do you need a bib? We can find you a bib. Padfoot here's pretty good at Transfiguration._**

****

**I can fix that tie into a fabulous red-and-gold-striped bib.**

**_It'll be spiffing._**

****

I spilled tea on myself this morning.

**You drank orange juice this morning.**

I slept in these clothes last night. I sleep with my mouth open.

**_You slept in your tie?_**

****

Yes. I find the tie is rather reminiscent of my mother's arms around me as I sleep. It's comforting.

**Your mother put her arms 'round your neck while you slept?**

Yes.

**_And you're still alive?_**

****

She wasn't throttling me. She had her arms comfortingly around my neck…I don't have to explain myself to you.

**_Please, don't. _**

****

**_Wednesday, 22 November_**

**_10:30 a.m., History of Magic_**

****

Wormtail, good man that he is (even if he did skive off yesterday, leaving me alone with the Idiot Twins), procured me a little meeting with one of Subject's twin friends. This twin's name is Charlotte (which is kind of awkward as I think I've been calling her Carla for six and a half years) and she will grant me ten minutes to talk to her about Subject.

Moony suggested I prepare a list of questions to ask. I think this is actually a good suggestion, and have complied:

1. What is up with the romance novels? Seriously, she's got them all the time. I hope I don't have to have a six- pack like the guys on the covers of those stupid books to get Subject's attention because, while I am attractively lanky, I am not muscular.

2. What does she wear to bed?

3. How often does she mention me on a daily basis?

4. Does she wear underwear? If so, what kind are they?

5. What is her favorite color? (So I can be sure to wear it as much as possible around her. Well, we can't actually wear stuff that is not uniform, so maybe I will buy ink in that color and write her love letters in it)

6. How would she respond to love letters to her from James Potter?

7. Does she like opera and the symphony and stuff like that? My parents get tickets to stuff like that all the time,and it's dead boring. But if she likes it, I can bring her and we can snog in the bathroom or something. That would be awesome.

8. Does she like Quidditch? I know she hates to fly (she cried on the day of flying lessons when she actually had to…you know, hover…) but does she at least like to watch the sport? Moreover, does she like to watch me play the sport and get sweaty? I am an attractive sweater. Not like an attractive sweater_, _like the clothing, because I'm not striped or made of yarn. I meant I look good when I sweat.

9. What does she like to do on a date? Has she ever been on a date? If not, why not? Does she put all guys through the three-ring circus as she's putting me through, or am I special?

10. Does she think I'm special? Would she go out with me? Would she let me buy her a Sugar Quill in Hogsmeade next weekend? Would she let me talk to her in front of other people without cursing me? Okay, say we're the last two people on earth—does she procreate with me?

**_Later on Wednesday_**

**_9:26 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

****

Had my chat with that twin friend of Subjects. Here are her answers to my questions:

1. "She likes the romance novels because she thinks they're funny. The dialogue is so cheap, you know. It's mostly just sex. But secretly, I think she kinda wants that to happen to her, you know?"

"What, sex?" I asked. Because if that's what she wants, I don't know why she keeps turning me down. I understand that women have needs, and I am only too happy to fulfill them.

Charlene (that is her name, right?) made a face.

2. "I am not telling you what she wears to bed, you disgusting pervert."

3. "She mentions how annoying you are several times a day."

"Does she ever mention how wonderful I am?"

"I don't think she's ever said that."

4. She didn't even answer this one. She punched me in the arm instead. It's not like it hurt or anything, but it was unnecessarily violent.

5. "Her favorite color is yellow."

You can't write to someone in yellow ink, not if you actually want them to read it. What crap is that?

6. "If you sent her a love letter, Potter, she would probably die laughing. Unless you were present when she got it, in which case, she'd hex you within an inch of your life."

7. "She likes the ballet. I don't know about the opera and stuff though."

The ballet? I expect she would, guys in tights displaying their packages.

8. "She likes to go to the games, to show spirit, you know, but she gets bored with it rather easily."

9. "How am I supposed to know what she likes to do on a date?"

Of course, I should've expected that answer. If she knew the answer to that question, that would just be it for me, wouldn't it? "Yes, but has she been on one before?"

"Of course she has; she's not a leper, you twat."

10. "I don't know, Potter. I doubt it."

"Even if I were the last man on Earth?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Depends on how everyone else died."

"Why would that even matter?"

"Well, if you killed them all, I don't think she'd be too keen on repopulating the world with you."

It's nice that Carmen thinks I'm capable of annihilating the whole world. It's sweet.

**_Thursday, 23 November_**

**_Approximately 6:05 a.m.:_******

Subject was seen reading "My Secret Love" in Common Room. I proceeded to exchange very odd (lengthy, pointless, blithering, etc., etc., all usual adjectives apply) conversation with Subject concerning pros and cons of keeping each other on enemy terms. Proceeded to launch into long-winded, seemingly pointless speech, thus making an arse of myself. However, I did manage to keep a number of what would be considered pricky comments to self (did exceedingly well on that front; should receive medal of some sort for my efforts). Suggested Subject call me by me by my first name. Subject found this amusing and has elected to think on it. Am very pleased with myself. I have decided that making an arse of myself more often might be a good idea, then I might actually get somewhere.

****

**_7:35 a.m._******

I think Peter is drunk because he's trying to be funny, which he usually only does if he is a) drunk, b) depressed, or c) if Sirius is drunk or depressed. Never any other time.

I asked him if he was drunk, and he smirked, which means he is, and I said, "Can I have some of whatever you're having? I'm going to see if I can say hello to Subject in Charms and get a reply that includes the words, 'Hello, James, how are you doing this morning? Fancy a quick shag in the broom cupboard?'"

Peter smirked again and said, "You know, Prongs, they say that if you need alcohol for courage, you have a drinking problem."

Glared, then punched him in the stomach.

**_Approximately 8:45: _**Subject just called me by birth-given name. Am exceedingly pleased with myself; figure to move on to small talk next week. Moony says not to rush things, so I will move impossibly slow.

Though I suppose this is lightning speed for Subject.

That was pricky.

Ah, well. I guess it's best I get it out here instead of throwing it in Subject's face.

**_Friday, 24 November_**

****

**_Approximately 10:45 a.m., Arithmancy_**

****

Saw Subject reading another romance novel at breakfast this morning, but she had the cover folded over, so I couldn't see what it was. She ate bacon and a scone, which is kind of a weird combination, but this is coming from the boy who drinks his milk with ice.

Am flirting with the idea of asking out another girl, simply to avoid dying of boredom and sexual frustration.

Do you see what I did there? Flirting with the idea of asking out another girl, which clearly would involve flirting? Get it?

God, I need a girlfriend.

Or just a quick snog.

Oh, holy fucking hell, I just realized that I can't remember the last time I made out with someone.

**_Later_**

**_2:10 p.m., Transfiguration_**

****

Okay, I need your help: do any of you remember the last time I made out with a girl?

**_Um, no, not so much._**

****

**Prongs, Mr. Padfoot cannot handle your social schedule as well as his own. Managing his schedule requires time and energy and complete attention. **

Sod off.

_Mr. Wormtail is of the opinion that Mr. Prongs is in dire need of girlfriend._

**_Mr. Moony seconds that._**

****

**Mr. Padfoot thinks he needs a calendar. Or a call girl.**

Seriously, you guys, I'm really freaking out. I cannot remember the last time I was up in the Astronomy Tower with a girl.

_What about that girl…Emily? Emma? Or was it, like, Elsa? Elizabeth? _

YES!! Elizabeth! Elizabeth Chamberlain. She's a sixth year this year. We got to second in the locker rooms. She was wearing a green lace bra. Thank you, Wormtail. I really love you sometimes.

**_I can't decide which of them is sadder._**

****

**Wormtail.**

**_Yeah?_**

****

**Oh, no question.**

**_Monday, 27 November_**

**_3:14 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

****

Have Quidditch in ten minutes; just enough time for a quick scribble.

Forgot book in dorm this morning, was v. upset. Tried to make Wormtail go get it for me, but I think he was hungover or still mad about the whole punching-in-stomach thing, because he was acting extremely irritable and started swearing at me.

Sat across from Subject at lunch because Padfoot managed to get a seat next to her, much to her dismay. Asked her to pass the plate of sandwiches, and she wordlessly did.

Attempted to start up a game of footsie with her, but when Padfoot demanded to know 'what the hell are you playing at?' with my foot up his trousers, I stopped.

She seemed to find that rather funny, though.

Quidditch now, Padfoot just came in and told me.

He also said, "And try to restrain yourself in the locker room, okay, Prongsie? I know my body is a temple and all that, but people might start asking questions."

Well, if he doesn't stop calling me Prongsie, yeah, people _will _ask questions.

**_Later_**

**_Have headache, can't be bothered to see what time it is_**

****

Saw Subject start to undress for bed through her window from where we were practicing on the Quidditch pitch. Flew into goalpost.

Padfoot will not shut up about it.

May hex him in his sleep.

**_Wednesday, 29 November_**

**_11:00 a.m., Arithmancy_**

****

Christmas is in less than a month.

Must start planning mistletoe-related "accidental" run-ins with Subject.

****

**_Later_**

****

Should I get her a present?

What kind of things would she like?

Jewelry, maybe? What do you think, Padfoot?

**No. **

**_Why not? I think jewelry's a nice gift for a girl._**

****

_Yeah, and it's expensive, which shows Mr. Prongs cares enough about Subject to shell out twenty Galleons for a necklace or something._

Exactly.

**Yeah, exactly. Jewelry is expensive. And what are the chances that Subject just laughs and throws whatever present Mr. Prongs gives her in the lake or out the window?**

Slim to none.

**_I see your point, Mr. Padfoot. Don't get her jewelry, Prongs. Stick with candy. _**

****

Candy is impersonal.

_And fattening._

What the hell does that have to do with anything?

_She might think that you think she's fat. _

I don't think she's fat.

_If you don't give her candy, she'll know that. And she'll like you better for it. You know how girls are mad about their weight._

**Girls are mad about everything. That's because girls are mad.**

_But they're especially mad about their weight. _

**_I wouldn't go around advertising that opinion, if I were you._**

****

**Why not? Girls are aware of their madness. **

**_Some aren't._**

****

**Show me a girl that's not mad. I will marry her right now. Save me a lot of trouble. **

**_I didn't mean that some girls aren't mad. They all are. It's just that some of them don't know about it._**

****

**They're kidding themselves.**

**_Yes, they are. _**

****

Ignorance is bliss, chaps.

_That it is._

**_So, Mr. Prongs, now that we're doing this note-passing thing that we really should stop if we wish to stay in school—_**

****

**Moony, we've done much worse things than pass notes and we're still here. I think we're safe.**

**_Anyway, as I was saying, Mr. Prongs, we must discuss Small Talk._**

****

_Why'd you put it all in capitals like that?_

Because it's a mission, Wormtail. Missions are capitalized. It makes them sound more important.

**You didn't capitalize 'mission' when you wrote it just now.**

Mission.

**That doesn't count; it's the start of a sentence.**

It's still capitalized.

**Doesn't count, though.**

Does too.

**Does not.**

Does too.

_Are you arguing about grammar?_

No.

**No.**

_Yes, you are. You're arguing about grammar. You're turning into Moony._

**_What's that supposed to mean?_**

****

It means you go absolutely off your rocker if one of us tells you 'It isn't going to hurt no one' or 'Padfoot and me are going to get some candy' or something.

**_Well, you're seventeen years old, and that's atrocious. Anyway, as I was saying before you lot decided to attack my character, Prongs, have you started thinking about what you are going to say to Subject during Small Talk?_**

****

_If it's a mission, why don't you call it Mission Small Talk or something?_

**You forgot to capitalize 'mission'.**

_Mission._

We don't call it Mission Small Talk, Wormtail, because that's lame. Continue, Moony.

**_I already said everything. That was a question. It's your turn to write._**

****

Oh. Well, I've thought about it, yes.

**_Anything that doesn't include the words 'shag', 'snog', 'broom closet', and 'alcohol' in these thoughts?_**

****

I resent that. All of those things are pricky. You're implying that I only think pricky thoughts.

**Prongs, have you paid attention to yourself at all while you've been alive?**

I pay very close attention to myself, thank you.

**_Right, that's why we're having this problem in the first place._**

****

I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm closing the book.

_It's been three minutes, why haven't you closed it?_

The ink hasn't dried yet, you twat.

----

A/N: Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to post this until "TDA" was finished, but I only have five chapters left of that, and I really liked how this turned out and I wanted to see what people thought.

…So what'd you think?

Anyway, do not expect regular updates on this until "TDA" is finished. It's taken me, like, two months to write this much, because "TDA" is a kinda absorbing fic to write, for me at least (well, obviously 'for me', there's no one else writing it _but _me). It takes up a lot of time, and I have people yelling at me all the time when I don't update for, like, three weeks.

This is a side project. It's really fun. There's no angsty stuff, unless James gets all frustrated and desperate and drunk. Which he probably will.

But I hope you liked it.

Tell me if you did or didn't.

...Please?

****


	2. Varying Degrees of Frustration

Stalking Lily Evans 

Chapter Two: Varying Degrees of Frustration

* * *

**Notes: **This chapter spans _Deflating _chapters five, six, and seven (well, half of seven). Remember that, in note passing, James writes in plain typeface, **Sirius in bold, _Remus in bold italics, _**and _Peter in italics. _Thank you's for reviews at the very end. Happy reading! ;)

* * *

**_Thursday, 30 November_ **

**_9:07 a.m._**

First attempt at small talk: failed spectacularly.

Subject seems content to be difficult. Have returned to previous conclusion that Subject is an insufferable wench. I am wondering again why I am doing this.

**_Later_**

Moony says I tried too much too soon.

Oh, yes, that's right. I am trying too much too soon by saying 'All right'. I said _'All right'_. The way he's acting, you'd think I had her pinned up against the wall with my hand up her skirt. _That _would be too much too soon (not to mention kinda illegal) but I just said 'ALL RIGHT'. It's a customary greeting. I say 'All right' to Padfoot every morning, that doesn't mean I want to have _him _pinned up against the wall with my hand up his skirt.

Wait.

Nevermind. Forget I said that.

God, I'm going to hell.

Actually, I think I'm _in it._

**_Still later_**

**_11:00 p.m., Dormitory_**

The Brilliant Moony now suggests I apologize to Subject for my too-much-too-sooniness.

Too tired to be snarky (Subject's weird timetable's got my internal clock all wonky) so will just say I abhor this idea. Will look for a better one tomorrow. Once I get my full nine hours.

**_Friday, 1 December_**

**_10:19 a.m., Arithmancy _******

Alternate Ways to Get Subject to Fall in Love With Me

(Also known as the I'm-Not-Listening-to-Moony List)

1) Find some way to snog her. My tongue can be very convincing. Again, this is where the mistletoe would be very helpful.

2) ……

Actually, there is no number two, because I am quite convinced that number one will do the job spectacularly if I can pull it off.

Moony just read over my shoulder and said that if I found a way to get Subject to snog me without cutting my tongue off afterward, he'd nominate me for Minister of Magic.

Which is stupid. Everyone knows you have to be at least thirty to run for Minister of Magic.

I would make a spiffing Minister of Magic, though. I make good choices. Plus, I am friendly, fun, and personable, and I make wonderful speeches.

Moony is snickering and shaking his head.

I'd like to see him do a better job at being Minister of Magic than me.

**_Later_**

****

****

**_Prongs, have you apologized to Subject yet?_**

****

If I had, you would be the first to know, Moony.

**_You really must do that soon, while the incident is still fresh in her mind._**

****

Moony, have you met the girl? She's not going to forget that anytime soon. I hope. Would it be better if she forgot it? Because if it would, I could Obliviate her.

**Don't think she'd like that very much.**

Well, no, but she doesn't like anything I do, so there you are. Did I tell you that I had a dream last night that I snogged her?

_Yeah? What was that like?_

Nice. It was nice. Except for the part when she turned into a cricket with red hair.

_A cricket, Prongs?_

Well, yeah. Stop looking at me like that!

**That's disturbing, Prongs.**

I didn't say I enjoyed Cricket/Subject! It was just a dream.

**_Don't they say that there's a lot of truth in dreams?_**

****

**They do say that.**

****

You're saying that I fantasize about snogging crickets?!

_Deep, deep down._

**I'm worried about you, Prongs. **

You're worried about me?!

**_Well, yes. Fantasies of crickets aren't exactly normal, Prongs. _**

Yeah? Well, what about all the dreams that you lot have had?

_I've never dreamt of snogging insects, I know that._

No, but you did have that dream about McGonagall getting up on her desk in the middle of a lesson and performing an exotic dance.

_…Shut up._

**Wow, I am officially scarred for life. Thank you, Wormtail.**

And what about you?

**What about me? **

Your naked Quidditch dream?

**That's not a dream, it's a calling.**

**_Naked Quidditch is your calling?_**

****

**Don't get all excited, Moony, it's a long way away. Each time I have sent letters to the Department of Magical Games and Sports about forming a Naked Quidditch League, I have been denied. Decency laws and what have you. **

_Who would go to a naked Quidditch game?_

**People.**

**_People like…?_**

****

**People like Prongs. **

What do you mean, 'people like Prongs'?

**You know. Sexually frustrated people.**

I hate you so much.

**Only because you know I'm right. **

**_Saturday, 2 December_**

**_4:15 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

Give in. Will apologize to Subject today.

On other note, must start studying for NEWTs.

Moony will surely agree that NEWTs are more important than apologies.

Will apologize to Subject tomorrow.

**_Sunday, 3 December_**

**_7:30 p.m., Common Room_**

****

You know what, I might just give it until Friday. That way, she has the whole weekend to get over the shock and I can go hide in Hogsmeade the whole time.

**_Approximately 9:00 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

Moony says that if I don't apologize to Subject tomorrow morning, he will do it for me.

I said I liked that idea and that there was a chance he could catch her downstairs if he hurried, but he shot a Tickling Charm at me and wouldn't take it off until I said I'd do it.

Bugger.

**_Monday, 4 December_**

**_Approximately 6:00 a.m._**

****

Subject has just left Common Room, laughing obscenely at (are you ready for this shocking revelation?) my expense.

You'd think she'd be a little more sympathetic towards me. I am trying to get her to fall in love with me--pricky, James, pricky-- but it's not working as well as I'd hoped, and she's loving it.

Sometimes Subject makes me extremely angry.

Maybe that is why I like her so much.

Whatever.

Okay, so I have been up since four thirty this morning, waiting for Subject to come downstairs, partially because I wanted to apologize without the entire bloody school breathing down my neck, and partially because Moony will ask me as soon as he sees me whether or not I've apologized to Subject yet. Okay, just because I have put it off for three days does not mean I'm never going to do it. Case in point: I already apologized this morning. Subject's reaction was less than stellar, but why quibble? Point is, I got it over with.

And the best part of the entire morning? When Subject came downstairs. Not because she looked exceptionally pretty this morning, but because of what she said: "Must be a good book."

I told her it was. And it is: I wrote it, after all.

**_Tuesday, 5 December_**

**_11:50 p.m., Kitchens_**

****

Wondering if Subject likes éclairs.

Am down in the kitchens (as evidenced by the heading), eating some, and it has just occurred to me that I have never once asked Subject if she likes éclairs. Of course, pastry isn't exactly high on the list of acceptable topics of conversation, but I am genuinely interested.

Éclairs are, after all, a fairly phallic food. Or I can make them a phallic food. I could make a bra out of éclairs or something and then eat it off her. Right?

Wait.

What if she is allergic to éclairs? What if I make her close her eyes while I am affixing the éclair bra to her chest so she can't see what I'm putting on her (because in this situation, she trusts me that much) and the very touch of it causes her to break into hives and eventually asphyxiate?

I could kill her with an éclair.

**_Friday, 6 December_**

**_Approximately 2:00 p.m._**

****

Subject said 'hello' in the corridors to me about twenty minutes ago.

I was so flustered I forgot to say it back.

The plus side of this otherwise annoying reaction is that I did not mention anything about éclair allergies. Which is v. good on me.

**_Later_**

****

Christmas break is in a couple of weeks.

What am I going to do without Subject for two-and-a-half weeks?

**There are lots of things you can do. You can…get good at Quidditch.**

Get good at Quidditch? Is that your New Year's Resolution, Padfoot?

**New Year's isn't for another month, you ponce. **

Well, I think that should be at the top of your list. Speaking of next month, it's my birthday. Next month, that is. I hope you are considering lavish celebrations and equally extravagant presents.

**_I just bought your Christmas present, Prongs. You're getting ahead of yourself._**

****

You bought my Christmas present?!

**_Yes, but I am not telling you what it is under any circumstances, so you can just take a step back and stop hyperventilating._**

****

I'll tell you what I got you.

**_Okay._**

****

You first.

**_No, you._**

****

No, you.

**_I got you a Quidditch book. Oh, and a scarf._**

****

Thank you.

**_You're welcome. Now what have you gotten me?_**

****

Nothing, yet. I was planning on going shopping next weekend.

**_You are impossible._**

****

I love you, too, Moony.

****

**_Tuesday, 10 December_**

**_3:30 p.m., Arithmancy_**

****

Haven't written in three days because absolutely nothing has been happening. Subject is still ignoring me for the most part (she asked me to pass the syrup this morning), Moony is still nagging me, Sirius put itching powder in my underwear on Saturday because he said he was feeling nostalgic, and…I have a Transfiguration essay due tomorrow that I have not started.

Things suck.

Could use a snog.

**_Thursday, 12 December_**

**_11:00 a.m., Charms_**

****

SUBJECT AND I JUST CONDUCTED A CONVERSATION!!

A real conversation!

Not an insult trade.

A conversation!

We were paired together in Potions (and, yes, I almost broke into convulsions of sheer happiness—is that possible? To have happy convulsions? If it is, I almost had those) and she must've been in an especially good mood or something because she did not push me into the cauldron or anything. She greeted me with a civil, "Hello." No 'James', which was sad, but also no 'Potter, you stuttering prick, hand me the feathers', which was better.

So we're boiling the water, and Subject is measuring the essence of belladonna while I'm chopping up some…roots, I can't even remember what they were right now, and she says, all polite-like, "How has your week been going?"

I nearly sliced my finger of in shock. I glanced up at her, but she wasn't looking at me, she was looking at her belladonna. "Um," I said. "Fine."

"Do you have any plans for the weekend?" She poured the belladonna in and looked up at the board.

For a second, I was sure she was going to ask me out. It was an exhilarating feeling, except for the part where I stopped breathing and started choking on my own spit.

Other than that, it was wonderful.

"No," I said quickly. "I'm doing absolutely nothing. It'll probably just be me, hanging around in my room, reading poetry."

The poetry part just came out. I do not actually read poetry.

That made Subject laugh. "Poetry, huh?" she asked. "What kind of poetry?"

Bugger. "Sad," I told her.

She looked up at me then, with her eyebrow raised all quizzical-like. "Sad poetry?" she said.

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

She shrugged, and she got that tight expression she gets when she's trying to hide a smile. "You just don't seem like the type of guy that reads sad poetry, is all," she replied.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I have…emotional depths you've never seen."

This is a complete and total lie, of course. I am the shallowest person I've ever met.

She smirked at that, and I could tell she maybe possibly saw through that. Or thought I was joking.

"What are you doing this weekend?" I said, smoothly changing the subject.

"Not going out with you," she answered readily.

While this was entirely expected, it still hurt. Ignored the slight and plowed on, "No, really."

She glanced up at me. "Nothing, actually," she said.

"I could lend you some sad poetry."

She laughed. "No, that's okay."

I am floating on air.

I am weightless.

I feel like cotton candy.

If cotton candy could feel.

And if it had half of my athletic prowess.

Ha, I'm imagining a Quidditch team, entirely compromised of pieces of cotton candy. It's massively entertaining.

**_Later_**

Am wondering whether or not I should go home for Christmas. Mum and Dad have said that I am allowed to invite some friends over for the holidays if I like, but I am thinking that Christmas would be prime time to close the deal with Subject.

Okay, Padfoot has just read over my shoulder and is laughing like an idiot. He is wondering why I do not write Subject's name down ("It's only four letters, Prongs, it's not that hard. Do you need me to spell it out for you?"), which I guess is an issue that I've never addressed. I don't write down her name because I don't want her to be able to tell it's her I've been writing about should I be careless and leave this lying around the Common Room and she reads it or something.

Padfoot is laughing again and says that that is the stupidest thing he has ever heard.

Padfoot wishes to add his comments:__

**Prongs, I am thinking that you should go home for Christmas.**

What prompts this rare show of thought?

**I have my reasons, and I assure you, they are all brilliant and important.**

Oh, I forgot: my mother promised you gingerbread scones every morning, didn't she?

**Dammit, Prongs, they just don't make gingerbread scones here like your mother does! But I agree that you might have reasons to stay…we could do some real damage with some mistletoe…**

**_Moony also wishes to add his comments: I don't know what kind of fun you two are planning on having with mistletoe, but you'll be doing it alone._**

****

What makes you say that, O Spoilsport?

**What makes you think I'd ever come near Prongs when he's wielding mistletoe at me?**

**_Lily's going home for Christmas._**

****

**_Friday, 13 December_**

**_Approximately 7:30 a.m._**

****

"There is no set way to win [Subject] over. You have to make it yourself." Why, thanks, Moony, for that load of psychological drivel that MEANS NOTHING TO ME.

What was I supposed to do with that remark, hmm? Was it supposed to become CRYSTAL CLEAR to me what I was supposed to do to get Subject to like me?? Because, surprise, surprise, it DIDN'T.

Why can't she just allow me a snog and get it over with? I'd be happy with just a snog. Really, I would. The shagging? Completely negotiable now. I don't even care anymore. I'm tired of doing this and being shot down.

But it'll drive me bloody insane if I don't at least get a SNOG! A snog off of Subject would cement my status as a god once and for all. Really, it would.

Yeah, there are at least fifty pricky things in that paragraph, but again: I don't even care.

Actually, I think I care too much.

I need to stop thinking about this, or I will go insane.

Did I develop multiple personalities overnight?

**_Later_**

****

Hate life.

Am going to jump off the Astronomy Tower.

**_Possibly the Most Glorious Day of My Life to Date_**

**_Thursday, 14 December_**

**_11:35 a.m._****__**

****

Subject said my name in her sleep.

She said my name.

She was dreaming about me!

And you know it was good; this is me we're talking about.

So I was waiting for her to wake up, thinking bitterly to myself that this was probably the only time I'd ever see her asleep, and wondering whether or not I should do "Ennervate" on her, just in case she had fallen into a coma.

As I'm debating this, I'm looking at the chalkboard. Suddenly, I hear this fluttery little voice that I have never heard before mutter, "James."

Instinctively, I say, "What?", thinking that Subject had woken up and was wondering what the hell I was doing lording over her.

But when Subject didn't reply, I looked over at her and she was STILL ASLEEP, she hadn't even shifted.

Okay, I couldn't really do a victory dance right then, in case Subject woke up and saw me (that would be horribly embarrassing). I can't dance, so when I try, I like to do it without the stigma of public mockery.

But I'll tell you, I felt very godlike just then.

I kept watching her, begging her to say it again, but she didn't. She just kept sleeping, and sometimes she frowned so that little wrinkles appeared between her eyebrows. Admittedly, this would have been the perfect time to make those classic "She-Looks-Beautifully-Peaceful-While-She's-Sleeping" observations, but I wasn't even concentrating on what she looked like--though I'm sure she was very pretty. I guess.

I decided that she wasn't going to say it again, so I kind of shook her again and said her name right in her ear.

She shot straight up, and looked very puzzled. Then she looked at me, frowned, and snapped, "You're just as bad as he is!"

Now what the hell is this supposed to mean? I'm just as bad as who? And what am I supposedly bad at? Everyone knows I'm not bad at anything…well, except chess, but I don't really think Subject and I were playing chess in that dream, okay?

"What?" I asked her.

She looked embarrassed, so obviously, she wasn't supposed to say that. "Nothing," she said, then looked around and noticed that we were the only two left. Subject then asked me where everyone was.

"Potions, I expect," I said, smiling charmingly. I offered to take her down to the kitchens for a little tea or something, but Subject ignored me and asked how long she had been asleep. I told her (embellishing a little; I said I'd only been trying to wake her for five minutes when really, it was more like fifteen--I didn't want her to think I was a psycho who has a fetish for watching pretty girls sleep), and she nearly fell over, she was so surprised.

Then, I took a gamble and asked her what she was dreaming about.

Subject actually looked kind of mad. Her voice got all cold when she replied, "I don't see where that's any of your business."

I smirked, knowing just how wrong she was. "See, I beg to differ."

Subject looked confused before replying, "Sleep is the only way I can escape you. I think I'm right in saying that what I think about while I'm there is none of your business." She got up to leave, but I certainly stopped her:

"You said my name."

Oh, she stopped all right. She almost tripped over her own feet and kept saying, "No, I didn't, no, I didn't," over and over and over.

Okay, Subject, I already know you were having fantasies about me. There's no use in denying it now, and there's certainly no need to be embarrassed about it. It's perfectly understandable.

I assured her she had, indeed, called out my name, most likely in throes of passion (didn't say that, luckily, she would've boxed me), but she grew rather hysterical, shouting, "I did not entertain your intransigent fantasies by saying your bloody name!"

This would have been a very interesting situation to try to explain to a teacher if they heard Subject screaming at me, but none came to see what the hell was going on.

I crossed the room, thinking that maybe I could pull her into a hug (I didn't try right off, though; just put my hand on her shoulder), and said, "It's okay, I won't tell anyone…just don't start crying," because she really looked like she was going to cry. I cannot stand crying girls, because I never know what to do, and I always end up saying something really stupid and looking like even more of a prick.

So while I'm praying silently for Subject to hold in tears, she was praying the same thing, because she yelled, "I am not crying!" then told me to take my hand off of her shoulder, and left the room.

I did my victory dance then.

If Subject is dreaming about me, it is only a matter of time before the process is complete.

So, to keep with my chess analogy:

Check.

She won't know what hit her.

* * *

**A/N: **So ends the second chapter!

I thank everyone for their _astounding _patience and understanding that I did have other commitments that would come before this. It made me feel all special and important, like you actually listened to me. And that does not happen often. :)

THE REVIEWS WERE AMAZING, AND I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!

**Thanks to:**

**Sploogal, lil qt wanna b Lily, Wild Magelet, da90schic, Cacrocks1, azirainbow, Pixie Wildfire **(where've you been? You're never online anymore, I miss you!), **Felicia Waltz, Elvinprincess99** (I'm so thrilled you like my Marauders. Peter wasn't around much in this chapter, merely because of the fact that there wasn't too much notepassing, but I'll try to…deepen, I guess is the word, his character in the next ones), **Me, RoseRedPhoenix,** **Christy Corr** (a fellow "OC" fan? Captain Oats is my third favorite character, right behind Seth and Summer ;), **Jewls5, Suji, Linnet Gryffin** (::hugs you:: Quotes make me feel funny and special. I love people quoting me more than anything, which is completely conceited of me, but true), **LuluIsALobster, Prof. Luna Sinistra, StarryEyes9, Tigeress5** (I like writing James, so I'm glad you like reading him), **True, MissMrprk, balletblues, jenni, Irish Silhouette** (as for _another _sequel to "TDA", I don't know. I'm leaning on 'no' at the moment, but I tend to get sentimental and weepy when a story ends and not want to let it go. So we'll see ;), **Skye0906 **(it took me about four days to realize that you were the same Skye from my lj flist. Felt stupid ;), **flossie1, lilbird** (it _is _kinda like behind the scenes, isn't it?), **siriuslycrazy, KelleBelle** (::feels warm and fuzzy:: Your review made me smile for about, oh, a week), **Carmen de Consuelo** (how _could _I forget about "TDA"? ;), **Olivia Wood, Roxy** (two people in a row who like my Remus…thank you both), **whacked **(my author's notes are funny?! Wow, you'd love my livejournal), **siriusforeva,** **Marauders Chick** ("_hehe, James. I somehow doubt Lily's dying to talk about her underwear."_ That made me laugh. Like, a lot), **Lourdes,** **Anna N. O'Muss** (I'm the queen?! How awesome is that?!), **Lady Kalypso** (I'm about 99.9% sure about my age…unless you and my parents know stuff that I don't ;), **Briana Marie** (I love your reviews, seriously. You're such a good reviewer; you're never afraid to tell me what I'm doing wrong as well as what I'm doing right and I thank you for that. If I could send you flowers, I would), **Emily**, **Gemini310,** **PeRkieGuRL, Grimm Sister, Charmer's song, The Barmy Brigand, duva, Kat44,** **Tessala, SquirtCrsh,** **Diabla666,** **snickerdoodle10201,** and **rockersbb13.**

Wow, my spellcheck is going insane right now.

That was long. I apologize. :)

And ::cough:: Angelicqua apparently drew stuff from the last chapter. She needs to send said stuff to me via snail mail so I can scan it and show it off. Angeliiiiiiicqua......

****

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****

****


	3. Varying Degrees of Sobriety

Stalking Lily Evans Chapter Three: Varying Degrees of Sobriety 

**Notes: **Spans chapter seven in _Deflating. _

**_Later on Thursday_**

****

Regaling the story of Subject's obviously dirty dream about me to the blokes, when Subject herself suddenly came bursting into the Great Hall. I fully expected her to yell at me for spreading 'rumors' about her (put 'rumors' in quotation marks because while Subject would call them rumors, they are, of course, completely and totally true) and possibly hit/hex me.

She did not do that.

She pulled me by my shirt into the Common Room and pushed me onto a couch—not saying a word the entire time.

It was just about the hottest thing ever. Thought I might explode due to the extremely repressed sexual tension between the two of us. Surely, she felt it too.

She announced that what she was dreaming about had something to do with this day in fifth year when I hung Snivellus Snape upside down in the air and she yelled at me for it. I don't really know, once I heard the name 'Snape' I kinda tuned her out. She insists that her stupid dream has to mean something, which, of course, it doesn't, no matter how much Moony and Padfoot say otherwise.

And see, even if she is one of those silly bints who insist that all dreams have meaning, and they're all important, and they're not at all the product of consuming too much sugar and/or dairy before you go to sleep, I still love her.

That's a sure sign that we are soulmates, I am sure.

She says that she will 'think about it over Christmas' and get back to me.

She's going to get back to me.

The phrase 'get back to me' suggests that she's going to talk to me! Right? Am I right?!

We are going to have one of our spectacular conversations, and she will say my name, and it will roll over her tongue and it will sound like music…and I will say, "Subject!" (only I won't say 'Subject', I'll actually say her name; expect she'd be furious if she knew I'm calling her that), and she will say, "James!" and I will say "Subject!" and she will say "James!"

And it'll just continue on like that until she gets so incredibly turned on by my voice that she shoves me against a wall and snogs me until I can't breathe.

Okay, wow, I'm going to go…take a shower.

**_Saturday, 16 December_**

**_8:35 p.m., Bedroom_**

**_Two Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

Home for Christmas hols.

Mum is, of course, smothering me.

Am incredibly bored. Miss having Subject to follow. I mean, talk to.

Sirius has been asleep all day, as he was up until four last night. I do not know what he was doing, only that when he came downstairs two hours ago to raid the kitchen, I asked, "When'd you go to sleep?" and he said, "Four."

So that settles that.

Oh, he's just come in. He wants to know if I would be up to going to town tonight, or if I'm too busy wallowing in my lovesickness.

His words, not mine.

Am not lovesick.

Must go prove masculinity by drinking excessive amounts of alcohol with best friend.

**_Tuesday, 19 December_**

**_Approximately 4:00 p.m., Library_**

**_Five Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

Have what seems to be a permanent hangover, which is the product of Sirius insisting that we go out every night.

Speaking of Padfoot, he is all pleased because he met a girl in town on Sunday night. She got stood up at the pub, and Padfoot, being the kind gentleman he is, went to comfort her.

Thirty minutes later, they're playing tonsil hockey in a corner.

Padfoot came home at six in the morning with his shirt mis-buttoned and his shoes on the wrong feet.

He disgusts me.

Told him so. He smirked and said, "You're just jealous 'cause I got off with a twenty-three-year-old and you're still pining after Evans."

Pause.

"She was twenty-three?"

"Oh, yes. Experiencedas hell." Which makes him, what? Inadequate? Didn't inquire any further for fear of projectile vomiting.

Pause. "You're seventeen."

"A seventeen-year-old who can get off with twenty-three-year-old blonde girls."

Long pause. "I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

Stare. "No way."

"Yes."

"Sixteen is the age of consent." Pause. "Right?"

"Um, no."

"Yes!"

Shake head. Sing: _"Jail _bait…_"_

"I am not jail bait!" Stand up too fast, knock over chair. Storm out of room.

Actually, I'm pretty sure sixteen is the age of consent, but Padfoot is just too easy to wind up. I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Later 

****

Am amused beyond belief.

Padfoot has spent the past two hours researching consent laws in my father's library. I did not even know my father haslaw-type books.

I, in turn, have spent the past two hours deliberately passing the library singing "_Jail _bait…_"_

'Course, Sirius hasn't realized that even ifhe was violating the consent laws it wouldn't be him that was in trouble. It'd be his twenty-three-year-old…I don't even know what to call her.

Just asked what label would be appropriate for this situation.

His twenty-three-year-old conquest. __

That is so tawdry.

Told Padfoot that he was an immature, arrogant, sex-obsessed, obnoxious prat. He stared at me for a second, waiting for me to continue, then said, "And?"

Pause. "And I love you."

"A bit too much, if you ask me," he mumbled, returning to his law book.

Cold and standoffish as he may pretend to be, Padfoot knows he loves me, too. He tells me so every time he gets especially drunk. Never fails.

I just happen to be a little bit more open with my affections.

**_Friday, 22 December_**

**_11:30 p.m., Dining Room_**

**_Eight Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

Sirius came bursting into my room just now, carrying a box and looking like he could be violently sick any minute now.

"What's your problem?" I asked.

"The box!" he said. "Look in the box!" He dropped it on my bed like it was on fire and I lifted the lid.

It was a lacy negligee, green in color with feathers. "So?" I said. "It's not like you've never seen lingerie before."

"Read the tag," he hissed, pointing emphatically.

I picked the lid up again and read the sticker on the top: "To Maureen, from Thomas." I immediately pushed the box off my bed. "Oh, my God!" I shrieked.

"I KNOW!"

We were yelling all shrilly, very much like girls who had just seen a picture of our favorite playboy in a magazine or something. Except we were disgusted, not excited. Maureen and Thomas are my parents.

My dad is giving my mum lingerie. This suggests that she wears lingerie. This suggests that she wears lingerie for him.

I still feel sick.

"Why would you show me something like this?!" I demanded.

"I couldn't keep something like that to myself, I'd die!"

"What, so you decided to bring me with you?! That's my mum! Maureen is my mum! My mum does not wear lingerie!"

"Well, apparently she does."

Next thing I know, we're going to find a secret S&M room somewhere in here.

Oh, my God, I'm giving myself ideas.

I'm never going to be able to sleep again.

Ever.

Sirius and I have decided to have a ritual burning of the Sinful Object tonight. I cannot have my parents having sex while I'm in the house. It doesn't matter how big this stupid place is, I will never be far enough away from that.

Am fully aware that they had to sleep together to produce me, but after that they should've just stopped. Seriously.

I'm going to be eighteen years old next month; I do not need a little brother or sister.

**_Saturday, 23 December_**

**_Approximately 1:30 a.m., Bedroom _**

**_Nine Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

Sinful Object has been successfully torched.

Will never speak of it again.

**_Still Saturday 9:12 a.m., Kitchen_**

****

Mum asked me if I'm okay. Says I look sick.

That's because every time I look at her I see the Sinful Object and I can actually feel my stomach contracting.

**_Sunday, 24 December_**

**_4:15 p.m., Dining Room_**

**_Ten Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

Christmas party today.

Hate my parents' Christmas parties.

Last year, my cousin Roger and his brothers got drunk and started soliciting anything that moved. And some things that didn't, in Roger's case: he preferred the sofa, a portrait of my great-great-great-aunt Althea, the Christmas tree, and, most famously, a lamp. Which he attempted to make out with, and subsequently burned his tongue on.

Okay, maybe they're not all bad.

**_9:04 p.m., Closet, Hiding from Relatives_**

****

**Number of times I've been hit on by inebriated male cousins: **48

**Number of times I've had my hair ruffled: **96

**Number of times I've been asked about my height: **107

**Number of times I've been asked about my weight/eating habits: **32

**Number of times I've been asked about Head Boy status: **109

**Number of times I've been asked about Quidditch: **102

**Number of comparisons made between me and Dad: **67

**Number of comparisons made between me and Sirius: **29 (Aunt Lucille still does not realize that we are not related. Keeps going on about how Sirius has the same eyes as her late husband George, bless his soul—nevermind the fact that Sirius gets his eyes from his mother. Who is definitely not related to my uncle George, we checked.)

**Number of glasses of eggnog consumed: **14

And the reason for the fourteen glasses of eggnog?

**Number of times asked about marital status:** 241

Going to go drown myself in the bath.

Or in eggnog.

**_Monday, 24 December_**

**_11:15 p.m._**

For the record, Prongs, this is Sirius. You are currently in your bathroom, spewing the entire contents of your stomach. You have had twenty-seven glasses of eggnog and seven of mulled wine. Why you decided to get drunk at your parents' Christmas party, I cannot say, but you apparently thought it was a good idea, because you have spent the past hour telling nonsensical Quidditch stories to your aunt Enid. She especially enjoyed the one, by the way, where you single-handedly won a match against a herd of cows.

This never happened, Prongs, in case your memory's a little off. I don't know where or why you came up with it.

You eventually passed out right there on the couch, your head drooping on my shoulder and Auntie Ned asked me if you were getting enough sleep at school.

I told her that you were much too busy working to sleep—straight faced and everything—and she says she's going to write a letter to the school governors about the amount of schoolwork they're forcing onto us seventh years. Appreciated, yes. Hysterically funny, also yes.

I hoisted you upstairs (no mean feat, you've put on weight—too many trips to the kitchens, we must put an end to that) so your mum wouldn't see (as far as I know, she is still in the kitchen with your cousin Seb—did you hear he's going to rehab again? Probably not, as you were much too busy drowning your sorrows in the eggnog) because that would upset her. You know, she's got that whole thing about thinking you're still an innocent nine-year-old. Seeing you passed out on the sofa with your tongue lolling out of your mouth would completely ruin that for her.

So I'm carrying you upstairs—and let me tell you, you have the most ridiculous stairs I've ever seen; there are way too many of them—and you suddenly come to and say, "Evans?"

Where would you get the idea that Lily Evans would be carrying you anywhere, drunk or otherwise? "No," I told you. "Sirius."

"Where's Sirius?"

"Here, you prat."

You looked at me, very confused. "Oh," you said. "Sirius?"

"Yes."

"Where am I?"

"Your staircase. I'm taking you to your room."

Pause. "Why?"

"Because you're drunk off your arse, that's why."

Indignant. "I am not drunk."

"Right, and I'm the Queen."

Pause. "Sirius?"

"What?"

"I don't feel good."

And then you threw up on me.

God. This is why I should never let you drink.

I think you're passed out again right now, mate; I haven't heard you retching in a bit. Let me go check.

Why yes, you had your head inside the toilet bowl, hovering about an inch away from your own sick, out completely cold. You are lucky I'm here, Prongs. You almost just drowned in the toilet.

I picked you up and dragged you into your bed, took off your shoes and your glasses, and tried to put the covers on you but you slapped my hand and called me a ragamuffin. Then you passed out again.

You don't even talk in your sleep when you're drunk, you know that? Usually I'll be awake reading or something and you'll suddenly start talking about bricks or toast or something and I'll tell you to shut up, but you're asleep. It's really annoying because I can't throw something at you without risking giving you a concussion or something, and I'd never know, because you'd be asleep. Well, I'd think you were asleep, but really you'd be dead. And I wouldn't be able to tell the difference until the morning.

Well, actually, I'd probably be able to tell the difference because you wouldn't be talking anymore, would you?

Wow, being your best friend for eleven years is finally starting to rub off on me.

It's occurring to me that watching you sleep—even for entertaining, recreational purposes—could be considered vaguely stalker/sex offender-ish, and I'm fully cognizant of the fact that if/when Moony and Wormtail read this, they will make fun of me for about forty years, so I'm going to my room now. Which, in case you lot have forgotten, is across the hall and four doors to the right of Prongs's.

And, no, I'm not bringing him with me.

**_Tuesday, 25 December_**

**_Daytime, judging from the blinding light coming from the window_**

**_Can't do math, head will explode_**

****

I think I'm dead.

Padfoot made a point of bursting into my room at eight o'clock this morning and throwing open the curtains and shouting, "Happy Christmas, Prongs!" right into my ears until I nearly started to cry with the pain. I'm still sure that blood was coming out my ears and my eyes.

Had to pretend like I wanted to get up and open presents. I don't even think I looked at what I got. I just tore off the paper and thanked everyone then went upstairs to sleep and hopefully die.

Was not that lucky, obviously.

There is someone Up There who hates me. I'm sure of it. If I were experiencing a little less agony, I would philosophize further on that topic, but that will have to wait another day when I'm not ready to claw my own eyes out with toothpicks. As it is, I'm not sure I spelled 'philosophize' or half the other words I've written correctly.

**_Later_**

****

_Last Will and Testament of James Potter_

_As told to Sirius Black_

To my best friend **_Sirius Black_** I leave my **Quidditch supplies** (brooms, protective gear, etc.) and **memorabilia **(posters, pennants, etc.), the **sandcastle **we spent eleven hours making at the beach when we were seven and my **Invisibility Cloak. **Also **170 Galleons **out of my savings account.

To my friend**_ Remus Lupin_** I leave all of my **books**. Also, that **sweater **of mine that he likes, the one with the **green and blue stripes**, all of my **photographs **and **170 Galleons **out of my savings account.

To my friend**_ Peter Pettigrew_** I leave my **shoes** because he is always losing his. I also leave the **prototypes of the Marauder's Map**, my **Chocolate Frog card collection**, my **watches**, and **170 Galleons **out of my savings account.

To my parents **_Maureen and Thomas Potter_** I leave my **Hogwarts trunk**, which includes **letters from my friends, pictures of the girlfriends I never bothered to introduce to you,** **schoolwork **that indicates my **brilliance**, and my **sincerest apologies **for being such a handful my whole life.

To **_L.E._** I leave my **Head Boy badge** and my **stolen Snitch,** **anything else of mine** she would like, including **stuff that I left to other people** and **30 Galleons **out of my savings account, since that's all that's left now that I've given the rest of it away.

Signed,

_J_

**_Friday, 28 December_**

**_Approximately 2:00 p.m., Living Room_**

**_Fourteen Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

Finally got around to looking at Christmas presents. Got some lovely things, but nothing from Subject.

Feel distinctly depressed.

Want cake.

**_Sunday, 30 December_**

**_10:03 a.m., Bedroom_**

**_Sixteen Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

It occurs to me that I didn't even think of getting Subject a Christmas present.

Well, I did, for about a second, but I haven't (hadn't) since.

Poor Subject. Probably waited up all night for my owl, but it didn't come. Most likely she spent the whole day crying.

I ruined Christmas for her.

Must make it up to her.

Think a nice, healthy snog is in order.

Surely that will set things right.

****

**_Thursday, 4 January_**

**_2:13 p.m., Sirius's room_**

**_Twenty Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

****

Been shopping for the past four days, and have come to the conclusion that girls are impossible to shop for. I have no clue what to get her. Am too scared to get her clothes, because I don't know her size and if I guess too big, she'll think I think she's fat, and if I guess too small, she'll think I'm trying to make her lookfat.

The first thing I'm doing when I get back to school is finding out her size. I mean, allof her sizes.

In the meantime, I need to think of something to get her.

****

**_Sunday, 7 January_**

**_Approximately 12:35 p.m._**

**_Twenty-three Days Since I Last Saw Subject_**

I am going back to school tomorrow, where Subject will hopefully have some more intriguing information as to why she's been dreaming about that day when she exercised her power as a killjoy. I still believe Subject is reading into this far more than it is deserved.

I got her something. For Christmas, I mean. I didn't send it to her because I don't know how open-minded her parents are as far as owls, them being Muggles and all. I got her romance novels. Five of them. I'll give them to her once I see her tomorrow.

I have read them, too, and see nothing funny about them. Oh, well. Maybe I just didn't get the right kind.

Padfoot looked at me very strangely when he saw me reading them. I told him that Subject reads them, and I wanted to see what the big deal was all about, but I don't think he believed me. He grew even more suspicious when I didn't send them to her right away. I think he really believes that I'm keeping them for my own personal enjoyment.

As for a course of action where Subject is concerned once we get back…well, she's already dreaming about me (so what if she's harping on the prick I was in fifth year? She's got to see that I'm really getting better about that). I really see no more that I can do. I just have to…let it flow naturally. And if that doesn't work, I might just pin her in the Common Room and kiss her. I'm really getting that frustrated…

**A/N and Assorted Disclaimers: **Eh, this chapter had its moments for me, but I don't like it as much as the others. Seems shorter to me, too. I changed the last entry around a little bit (it was originally in _Deflating_) to fix calendar-type errors, since I suck at math and didn't count the days correctly when I wrote it last year. I'm finding I did that a lot, and I'm surprised no one noticed it and corrected me back then.

The 9:04, December 25th entry (the one with all the numbers) was influenced by various entries in _The Princess Diaries, _and the 'So-Many-Days-Since-I-Saw-Subject' thing was also taken from _Princess Diaries_; _Princess in Waiting _if we're to be specific.

**The reviews are _incredible_. You're all _clinically insane _and _wonderful_. 107 reviews (as it is at 1:22 a.m. on July 9th, which is when I am writing this) for _two chapters _is positively…unbelievable. I love you _so much_. I don't know _why _I'm _italicizing _stuff… **

**Thanks to:**

**jenni** (you _were_ the first to review, go you ;), **Lily Thorne** (it'd be kinda hard to make _Deflating _and _TDA _into originals considering they were written for the characters that belong to the esteemed JKR, but I'm glad that you think they're good enough for it), **Star19, Sploogal **(all of our mothers think we're crazy at some point in time. Mine can't understand why I spend so much time doing this ;), **duva **(please, fangirl away! Oh, and btw, I love your Sunday series ;), **killerscissors **(lol, I'm glad I have you convinced, I guess), **Diabla666 **(now that you mention the Naked Quidditch thing, I forgot to mention in chapter two that I got the idea for that from something I saw on a Yahoo group once [I'm _so _bad with disclaimers]. I don't know what it was or even where I found it, but I remember reading it, so it's not entirely mine), **Cacrocks1, The Skull Cowboy **(you whorebatory mastermind, you), **balletblues, SquirtCrsh, MissMrprk **(I don't know if 'beautiful' is quite the word for this particular story :), **lilbird **(I think _Deflating _will always be my baby…[I totally didn't mean to paraphrase Mariah Carey right there] It was the first story I'd written that people really seemed to _like _and that floored me), **clothespeg-rules **(breathe, honey, breathe…yeah, in every single chapter I've written [well, all three of them, that is] one of the boys says/writes Lily's name once. It's like the I Spy books, with the little dog in every picture. Only it's mostly unintentional) **SiriusSweetie7 **(I announced this chapter and linked to it in my livejournal exactly three minutes after I posted it, so maybe I misunderstood your suggestion?), **Christy Corr **(this story, sadly, is my favorite. And Captain Oats and Princess Sparkle deserve their own show. Maybe that's the spinoff Josh is planning?), **Lady Kalypso **(a prodigy? Seriously? And I, too, love James far more than should be allowed. And Sirius as well. And Remus, too…Is there a name for that? Forming attachments to fictional characters, I mean?), **whoever **(yay for the delurking! I'm one [a lurker] myself. It _is _hard to find good stuff on this site, but when you do, it's usually very good. And I'm happy that you're including me in that), **siriusforeva, Pineapple Queen1, WitchofNZ **(I don't think sporks are exactly natural ;), **JacksSavvyLuv, Marauders Chick **(could it be, like, one of those light parades? Because those are awesome), **Tintalu **(humor _is _really hard to write, and it just takes a lot of practice. Take it from me, I've been doing this for five years), **Hi no Kasumi **(how can you _not _love sarcastic!Remus?!), **cocogippslend85 **(working on "TDA", and I hope you won't be disappointed), **StephBlack, Mariagoner, snickerdoodle10201, Cho Ch **(…when was I ever gone? ;), **taiyourshoes **(have you seen the "The One With All the Wedding Dresses" episode of _Friends_? Where Chandler says, "I don't dance at weddings, because when I dance, it looks like this" or something similar and he does that really weird, jerky sort of dance? That's James's victory dance, in my mind), **Kat44 **(…I wrote the fic with the 'Subject thingy'. It's _Deflating._ Unless someone ripped me off or did it first without my knowledge), **Stacey, Briana Marie **(James has a random mind because I do. It's becoming scarily clear to me that James is the male version of me. Only I'm less hormonal and he's less obsessed with lip gloss. Oh, no, wait…), **Irish Silhouette **(enthusiastic much? James loves you, too, I'm sure. ;), **rockersbb13, TheSilverLady, FrostQueen4eva, Dippy Black, flossie1 **(I don't know what I would do if I couldn't come to Probably go on it anyway. If you want, I could send you the chapters via email so you wouldn't have to risk infection. Let me know), **x-cutie-pie-x35**, **Lunawolf **(lol, I'm glad you think this is better than the highest grossing animated film of all time. Unfortunately, I've yet to see it, so I don't know what that says about the story ;), **K.D. Toling **(thanks to your friend, as well, if s/he's not already here :), **Forbidden, martian doll, nottelinwho, and Vitreum.**

**Thanks is also due to anyone who put me on their favorites lists. **I have 408 now, which I'm thinking is a miscalculation on 's part. Wouldn't be the first time they'd messed up. It's just too crazy.

That was far too long. And it took me forty-five minutes to do. I'm sorry. :)


	4. Varying Degrees of Confusion

Stalking Lily Evans 

Chapter Four: Varying Degrees of Confusion

**_Monday, 5 January_**

**_1:12 p.m., on the train back to school_**

****

Just seen Subject.

I think she's done something new to her hair; it seems shorter or lighter or something. She looked especially pretty, though that may just have been the tight fit of her sweater.

Not that I was looking. Because I wasn't.

Except for the part where I was.

Anyway, I gave her the books, and she actually seemed pleased. She gave me some very nice smiles, and when I asked her to kiss me in payment for the books (oh, that came out wrong—I didn't mean it like that; I just meant that, for my Christmas present, she could kiss me) I'm pretty sure she considered it. Before yelling at me.

Well, maybe 'yelling' is too strong of a word. It was more like…scolding. Making me feel impossibly stupid.

Not that it takes much or anything.

**_Wednesday, 7 January_**

**_2:40 p.m., Potions_**

****

Spent the majority of History of Magic passing notes with Subject.

She called me 'darling'.

Sarcastically, but there it is, a piece of paper with 'James, darling' written on it in Subject's handwriting.

Of course, she also told me that she can't stand me in the same sentence, but it's something.

"James, darling, I cannot stand you."

I will treasure those words until the day I die. And when I die, I will have them engraved on my tombstone.

**_Later _**

****

Moony had the audacity to question my interest in Subject. I am currently not speaking to him.

Padfoot says that Subject was flirting with me in the notes.

The Sentence has taken on new meaning. It no longer means that shecan't stand me, but that she is actually wildly in love with me.

Obviously, I'll be shopping for an engagement ring within the month.

**_Saturday, 10 January_**

**_Approximately 11:30 a.m., Dormitory_**

****

Have spent an hour and a half in the lavatory, trying to decide which side of my face is more appealing to the eye. I would still be in there, but a hysterically irritable Wormtail kept banging on the door and yelling that he needed to shower, among other things. He was remarkably undeterred when I told him what I was doing, and finally he just did an Alohomora on the door and forcibly removed me from the bathroom.

He is so melodramatic. And astonishingly strong.

Clearly, my experiment is more important than Wormtail's need to wash his hair, but of course, I am the only person who sees this. Am forced to continue said experiment with this sad little hand mirror I found under Padfoot's pillow.

While examining my face from every angle, it has occurred to me that I have a very nice face. And that isn't just me being arrogant, either. I have high cheekbones, nice eyebrows, and boyish freckles under my eyes. And my eyes are not just the windows to my soul. They are the windows to lots of other pleasant things, such as money, cake, Quidditch, and certain parts of Subject's anatomy.

As for which side of my face is more attractive, I'm sort of leaning towards the right. There's this little piece of my hair on the right side that is starting to turn inward, on account of the fact that I haven't had a haircut in about four months. It's a bit dashing; makes me look very casual and cheeky.

However, on my left side, if I incline my head to the right and look up, the light sort of hits my eye and makes it glint in a very charming manner. It makes me see purple spots for about an hour afterward, but it's a dramatically stunning sort of trick. Add one of my little half smiles, and Subject will be throwing her knickers at me in no time.

**_Tuesday, 13 January_**

**_1:29 p.m., Charms_**

****

**Mr. Padfoot wishes to play Hangman.**

_No fucking way._

**Hey. Language. Wouldn't want Mr. Prongs's virgin eyes to be exposed to naughty words like th—**

**_Let the record show that Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot are currently poking each other with their wands. Sadly, I mean that literally._**

_Mr. Wormtail simply wishes to get the point across. _

**And that point is?**

_That there's no way I'm ever playing Hangman with you ever again. _

**You used the word 'ever' twice in that one sentence.**

When did you suddenly become a grammar Nazi? Between this and the mission thing, I don't recognize your writing anymore.

**You forgot to capitalize 'mission'.**

Padfoot, I'm going to shove this wand into your stomach and twirl your intestines around it like spaghetti.

**I'd like to see you try it with just the one point. You need at least two tines on a fork to twirl spaghetti. Points for imagery, though.**

Don't try to sway me with compliments; I'm still not going to play Hangman with you, either.

**Just because I have a healthy appreciation for competition—**

**_Padfoot, let me remind you of what happened the last time we agreed to play Hangman with you: you lost to Wormtail, waited until he was alone, transformed, and tried to maul him. Do you recall that?_**

****

**You're exaggerating.**

_**Do I have to show you the scars?**_

**I saw enough of your leg when it happened, thanks.**

_**Berk.**_

**Pillock.**

_**Friday, 16 January**_

_**6:00 p.m., Kitchens**_

Saw Subject talking to Walsh, a sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect. She was leaning against a wall, holding her books, and he was standing in front of her, saying something that made her laugh. He was smiling an awful lot for my liking, and I think he may have touched her shoulder.

I wanted, of course, to go and pummel him, but I didn't, firstly because Subject would probably frown upon it, and secondly, because I realized that she was probably only trying to make me jealous. Silly girl.

So I waited until she headed off to the library and then I snuck up behind Walsh, grabbed him by the front of his robes and slammed him against the wall. I told him that if I ever even heard that he'd been talking to Subject I'd make sure he suffered a long, slow, torturous sort of death. He was positively quivering with fright by the time I let him go.

And then just as he was about to run off to cry in a corner, I thought of something and ran after him. He cowered at the sight of me, but I only told him not to tell Subject that I'd threatened him with bodily harm or else the bodily harm would come faster.

And he said, "How—how would I tell her that you threatened me if I'm not allowed to talk to her?"

This is a good point, but I said, "Just don't do it" and let him go.

See, now that she's accomplished making me jealous, she won't have the unpleasant side effect of having Michael Walsh chasing after her while all she wants to do is snog me senseless.

The things I do for her.

_**Sunday, 18 January**_

_**Approximately 3:00 a.m., Common Room**_

It's so late (early) that I may pass out right on this page, but I have to copy this down because it's such a brilliant story.

The blokes and I decided to go out to Hogsmeade yesterday (well technically, earlier tonight) so at about ten we huddled under my Cloak and went through the Honeydukes passage (it's one of the only shops that stays open past nine), said hello to Delia at the counter, and headed to the Three Broomsticks for a bit of a nightcap.

So we're sitting at the bar, drinking gin and casually flirting with Rosie when all of a sudden Sirius bangs his head on the bar and keeps it there.

He'd only had two drinks so I knew he hadn't passed out, so I poked him in the ribs and asked him what his problem was.

He whispered, out of the corner of his mouth, "Look at the booth by the bathrooms."

I did, and there, with a bunch of girlfriends, was Sirius's little blonde conquest from Christmas break.

Well, I couldn't just let that lie there, could I?

No, I couldn't, is the answer to that question.

So I casually alerted Moony and Wormtail, who know the story of Sirius and Conquest because I told them about it the second I saw them on the train back to school, and we all started talking to Sirius. Loudly. Using his name in as many places as possible.

Finally, the girl looked up from her gillywater and saw Sirius, who was at the time threatening to put my eyes out with the pin on my Head Boy badge. She smiled real wide and actually came over.

She's really quite pretty, if you like the blonde-haired-brown-eyed-ridiculously-skinny-with-a-sizeable-bust-type girls. I think Sirius said she was a lawyer of some sort. Or maybe her boyfriend was a lawyer. Something like that.

So she comes over and taps Sirius on the shoulder. She smiles, and says, "Hi, Sirius. Remember me?"

He forced a smile and said, "Sure I remember you."

She bit her lip, still smiling—Subject wears this expression sometimes when she's flirting; I've seen it. Not directed at me, of course, but I've seen it—and said, "I never got to tell you what a good time I had last time when we were…together."

Peter was quavering with held in laughter by now and Remus was biting his lip so hard I was sure he was going to bite straight through it. I myself managed to keep a poker face. "Oh, yeah, yeah, me, too," Sirius said in a strained sort of fashion.

"So," the girl said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and tracing a line down Sirius's chest with her finger. "Do you have to work tomorrow or…?"

Moony, Wormtail, and I got it simultaneously: Sirius didn't tell her that he's seventeen. She thinks he has a job. At an actual place of business. Where people pay you for doing some variation of work.

The expression on his face was the single greatest thing I've seen in a very long time.

"A-actually, I do have to get up early," Sirius told her, staring me in the eye. Clearly, he was trying to tell me that if I did anything stupid, I would regret it. I pretended not to understand.

"Yeah," Peter said. "You wouldn't want to miss that Ancient Runes test you have tomorrow, would you?"

The girl stared at Sirius, confused. "You're a teacher?"

"A teacher?" Remus said before Sirius could say anything. "Oh, no. Sirius is a student."

She rounded on Sirius, looking surprised and kinda disgusted, and he lamely said, "I'm a very good student."

_**Wednesday, 21 January**_

_**1:10 p.m., Potions**_

As of twelve minutes ago, I am eighteen years old.

I keep mentioning my birthday in loud tones whenever Subject's around, in hopes that she will give me eighteen birthday spankings, but if she's noticed, she has not said anything. Or made any moves to swat my arse.

Am extremely disappointed.

_**Later**_

Just returned from raucous birthday party downstairs.

Subject came in from the library at about seven, glanced around, and asked me what was going on. I told her that it was my birthday, and that my friends were throwing me a party. She frowned and said that I'd better keep it quiet.

Then she went upstairs.

No 'Happy Birthday James' or gifts of lingerie.

Oh—oh—painful memory, painful memory.

_**Thursday, 22 January**_

**Mr. Padfoot is of the opinion that Mr. Prongs is royally screwed.**

_**Mr. Moony seconds this opinion and would like to add that, had Mr. Prongs listened to what Mr. Moony said, Mr. Prongs would not be in this situation.**_

_Mr. Wormtail also agrees with Mr. Padfoot, and wishes for Mr. Moony to get off his high horse before it throws him off._

**Say, Mr. Moony, would you attempt to give us a detailed transcript of what Mr. Prongs is saying to his Subject, so that we can make fun of him accordingly?**

_**Mr. Moony would be honored to:**_

_**As of right now, Mr. Prongs is telling his Subject that he apologizes for doing the following, not necessarily in this order: snogging Subject, professing his love for Subject, and making Subject cry.**_

_Mr. Wormtail is still of the opinion that Mr. Prongs is a horrible kisser, thus causing his Subject to sob because he cannot fulfill her dreams._

**Mr. Padfoot wholeheartedly agrees. Carry on, Mr. Moony.**

_**Mr. Prongs is adding that he cannot deal with crying girls, and that his boggart is most likely a crying Subject.**_

**Mr. Padfoot is of the opinion that Mr. Prongs is a full-fledged liar. Mr. Prongs's boggart is a chicken.**

_Seriously?_

**Yeah, bad childhood experience; I'll tell you later.**

_**Anyway, as we just saw, Mr. Prongs and Miss Subject were just berated by the imperial Professor McGonagall, and Mr. Prongs is explaining to Miss Subject that he indeed meant everything he said.**_

**Wonder if he really does, though?**

_**Who knows? Li--Subject apparently doesn't believe him, which I guess we will be hearing about later.**_

_Yeah…Mr. Wormtail wishes to announce that he will be out of the dormitory at the time Mr. Prongs decides to take out all of his frustrations out, lest he start to take them out on Mr. Wormtail again._

**Oh, come off it, Wormtail, you stopped singing eventually. And the boils are clearing up nicely.**

_**Think Mr. Prongs'll be upset that we're writing in his precious Stalking-Subject-Journal?**_

**Mr. Padfoot is of the opinion that Mr. Prongs will be thrilled.**

****

_**Later**_

I kissed her.

I kissed Subject.

My lips were on her lips. I touched her lower back. I could feel the waistband of her skirt through her robes. I got close enough to her to feel her breathing, to feel her knees press against my legs, to smell her hair.

I'm still in shock.

I…I can't believe I did that.

Her mouth tasted like orange juice.

She's furious at me, of course.

I don't know how it happened. I just—I wanted to talk to her. She wanted nothing to do with me when I went to see her at breakfast, though, and she actually left the room. I followed her, and we ended up fighting in the hallway about how she can't stand to be around me. I was yelling at her. I almost never yell at her. I make jokey little comments and she yells, but I don't.

But this time she just—she got me so frustrated, and I've been trying so hard to get her to like me and none of it seems to be getting me anywhere and I'm just kinda tired. You know? I'm tired and I'm angry but I really like her so I can't just give up; it's not in my nature but this situation absolutely sucks and I feel like such a prat all the time when I'm around her and she won't give me a break at all and—

Well, it all came out today.

I guess I sorta lost it after I told her I loved her.

Oh, my God, I forgot about that part.

I actually said, "Lily, I love you."

Except I mostly said it out of spite.

Which makes me horrible.

But I think I might, actually. Love her, I mean.

I don't know. Never been in love before, so I don't know. Is this what it's like? Being frustrated and angry all the time but trying to hide it by holding on because you're just sure that it hasto get better sometime, but then it doesn't?

If so, love sucks.

I hate love.

I don't know what came over me. She was just angry, and then I had her by the elbow—I wasn't holding her hard or anything, but I'm a lot stronger than she is—and I kept asking her to tell me what she hated about me, but she was insisting that she didn't hate me, which I'm beginning to think is a lie, and then she started getting hysterical and I just…kissed her. Just like that. No warning or anything. Just kissed her. I don't even think I realized I was doing it before I noticed that my eyes were closed and there was a mouth under mine that tasted like orange juice.

And I swear—though I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I must've imagined it—she opened her mouth about a fraction of an inch.

But before I could do anything about it she jerked away from me, and she was crying and she told me I was (am, actually) a prick and ran away.

Well, not ran away, not like in her romance novels, but she stalked off.

I apologized, but I don't think she's very pleased with me.

Don't see why.

I'm a bloody fantastic kisser.

_**Friday, 23 January**_

_**Approximately 9:00 a.m., Charms**_

So glad I thought to put an Invisibility Charm on last night's entry.

And now, since I mentioned it, I'm going to have to put one on this one. Entry, that is.

I'm feeling a lot better. Not as angsty and 'woe-is-me' as last night.

I drank orange juice with breakfast this morning without thinking about it, though, and…yeah. Everything sorta came rushing back and I accidentally stabbed Moony's watch with a fork. There are four little holes in the face now, but it's still working, so that's good.

_**Monday, 25 January**_

_**7:35 a.m., Breakfast**_

Have come to the logical conclusion that Subject is the most difficult girl on the planet.

Must remember never to leave this in the hands of Padfoot, lest he get antsy to fill his smartass quota in class again.

Maybe I should go back and read those romance novels…didn't one of her friends say that Subject really wishes some of that sappy stuff can happen to her?

I'll try that. I'll try the sappiest thing I can find.

Okay, new mission: Get Subject's Romance Novels Away From Her, or Project GSRNAFH, for short.

Note to self: create more witty, clever, and pronounceable name for Project GSRNAFH.

Also: be careful not to mention Project GSRNAFH in front of Padfoot-- he's forgotten about me reading those books over Christmas, but if he got wind of this, every person who ever attended this school will know.

**_Later_**

_**History of Magic**_

**Subject is avoiding me.**

Fine. That's fine. She can avoid me.

I don't care.

Watch me not care.

This is me not caring.

Yep, I don't care…I don't care at all.

**------**

A/N: Was this nonsensical to anyone else?

I had to change the dates for a lot of the entries (I really, _really_ suck at math) and for the 25 January entry, I took out a few lines to coincide with the second entry for 22 January (did that sentence make any sense?). I actually do like the 22 January entry, and that's why I pulled those sentences; I liked that version of events better.

I got nominated for awards!! Four of them!! I'm nominated for one of the top five authors, best MWPP fanfic, best overall fanfic, and best romance fic (really? romance?) for "Deflating". Links currently aren't working on the Site of Doom, but there is a link on my lj. So…vote for me. Because it would be awesome if I won. :)

The reviews are consistently amazing. I _love_ waking up to reviews. And eating lunch to them. And going to sleep to them.

**Thanks to:**

**Pixie Wildfire** (fangirling, woot!), **ThouandI, MissMrprk, Lily Among the Thorns-89** (drunk people=instant comedy gold. Okay, maybe 'gold' is stretching it. Sterling silver, maybe ;),** Cacrocks1, Jewls5, Tinstar** (I imagine Remus would make sure that there is no way in hell Harry could get his hands on this. The boy's traumatized as it is), **martian doll, Christy Corr** (no, Seth left Captain Oats on his desk. The self-centered ho. Didn't even bother to take his beloved horse with him. _Or his girlfriend…_that's a show I would like to see: Seth and Summer on the open seas…),** flossie1** (I see opportunities for funniness, I take them. Sirius is a comedy god in himself, but there are very few people who can write him well. Tabitha Jones writes a brilliantly three-dimensional and funny Sirius, and I've yet to see anyone who can really compare to that. I hope the Lily action was sufficient in this chappie. Especially since there _was _action. ;) **Lady Kalypso** (your James story was great! Fortunately, I don't write boys' names on my notebooks, I write quotes. Which is, you know, sadder. And I'm glad you're thinking of ways to capitalize on my hypothetical success. Capitalism, woot! And, ahem, I'd like to book an appointment with Adam Brody, stat. ;),** George is hot-MrsMoony** (nah, there's nothing wrong with a brother/sister being born late in life. I was twelve when my brother was born which is, okay, not the same thing, but still. It was simply from Prongsie's point of view. And he's a silly little spaz :),** taiyourshoes** (I'd love to write sitcoms, actually. That's something I'm extremely interested in.' And I so do the Chandler dance. Every time I get reviews, I sit in my chair and do a sort of—sitting down version. As for the 'one of the most popular l/j writers'…it is kinda cool to read someone's fic and glance at their favorites' list and it's like, oh, hey, there's me…) **KelleBelle** (thanks for taking time to review!), **walkingcensure** (I love you too! And I'm sorry you had to learn about S&M here…and not on TV like I did :) **sumrandumperson, Pineapple Queen1** (loyal quote person, woot! I like quotes because it's interesting to me to see the difference between what some people think is funny and what others do),** Senna2, Lunawolf** (exactly, he's a guy. He does not function normally. :),** FrostQueen4eva, Leap of fate** (I shall be on the lookout for the blue-tongued skink),** Kat44** (Lily does find it in the next [and possibly last] chapter), **tta** (lol, comparing Mia and James in my head….fifteen-year-old American princess….eighteen-year-old English sex-obsessed berk…although in 'Princess in Pink' she does spaz a lot about getting to second base…), **SiriusSweetie7, Luna-Elentari, Star19, snickerdoodle10201, Diabla666** (…comedic genius? Really? ::glows for about an hour and a half::),** snapesofwrath **(that's a clever name, btw), **J.R.** (if I had money, I would pay for your dry-cleaning. Unfortunately, I don't, so…chapter? :), **shadowfox5, Gizelle, Goddess of Gorgeousness **(I have no idea how it's complicated. James is the single easiest person to understand: see girl. Girl pretty. Snog girl in closet), **Green Zephyr** (nope, no summer school for me—and I fought for my summer so, yay. And I _hate _when people write boys as overly sensitive and melodramatic. I don't know any boys like that out there…except on soap operas),** plumkin** (I know fourteen-year-olds who can't write an essay or read what they _have _written to save their lives),** Marauders Chick** (woot, light parade for me. And I'd like to see Jamesie escape with all of his limbs intact if he called Lily 'Subject'…even if it was hysterically funny),** Georgia** (he's starting to realize that, oh, maybe I _shouldn't've _said that. _Starting_. Silly little boy. ;),** starchica, **and** taarspinkchick1029** (::inhales:: all the in-jokes I can think of… "Oh, my God, I can _so _see you watching gay porn"… "Angel is my gay boyfriend"… "Yeah, like, what was on _Sex and the City _last night?"… "_If _you know what I mean…"…. "And I was like, 'oh, my God' and she was like, 'no way' and I was like, 'mm-hmm, biotch'"…."We went to the convenience store and put vodka in our Pepsis when no one was watching"… "Keep it real"… "Mr. Jones cares"…. "Stripper!Brannon ["I'm going to take my pants off now"—purple boxers!]… "trendy skankoid ho"… Julian's wedding dresses…I can't think of any more. Except for the scary tree house. That I have to drive by every time I go home.)

__


	5. Varying Degrees of Fear

Stalking Lily Evans

Chapter Five: Varying Degrees of Fear

**_Later on Monday_**

****

I can hardly write I am so happy. And excited. And kinda nauseated.

Lily Evans is in love with me.

She is!

You may be wondering how I know this. Well, probably not, considering you're an inanimate object, but for my sake, let's say you are.

I lost this book, right? Now, ordinarily, this would be a crisis, and it was, until I realized that she had it—because I saw her holding it when I came downstairs—and then I came really close to her, and she recoiled—for a second I thought she was repulsed by me, but then I noticed that she was blushing and—I said, "I'm not going to kiss you" and she got even redder, and it hit me….

She wants me to kiss her. Like, a lot.

Obviously, the kiss last Thursday made her realize that there is nothing greater in the world than the taste of my spit, which is understandable. I do have crave-inducing spit. Couple that with my kissing technique, and I can see how she would be yearning (and we would call it yearning) for more James snoggage. She's probably going through withdrawals right now, scratching herself and getting headaches and such.

And now she's just trying to figure out how to tell me so without sounding completely tarty.

She needn't bother.

I don't mind her tarty.

I've never actually seen her be tarty, but I'm sure it's brilliant.

**_Even later_**

****

I am a bit worried about what she could've read in this book, however. I have said some vaguely prickish things in here.

Maybe, since she is clearly in love with me, the prickishness is endearing to her. That would be pretty cool; the censorship and Moony-nagging would no longer be necessary and I could be as stupid as I wanted to around her and she would reward me for it.

Moony the Nag suggests that I start complimenting her to simplify the path to snoggage.

Hopefully, she doesn't look hag-like tomorrow so I can compliment her without her hitting me for 'trying to be clever'.

****

**_Wednesday, 31 January_**

**_Approximately 8:30 a.m._**

Lily (that is so strange to write) is holding something back from me, and I don't know what it could possibly be.

She made this big song and dance about how I was not listening to her this morning at breakfast, then when I said that I was finally feeling attentive; she wouldn't tell me whatever it was.

I think she was going to admit that she is desperately in love with me and wants to have my baby, but then backed out at the very last minute.

Well, I have decided that I am going to make it easy for her.

I'm going to ask her out.

Padfoot is laughing.

Yes, again, you stupid cretin.

**_More Wednesday, 31 January _**

**_12:15 p.m. _**

Sub--Lily is a sadistic bitch.

I'm quite serious.

Okay, so I was right: she is head-over-heels in love with me, this is true. But just when she gets all my hopes up, and I start picturing her in a wedding dress (no comments from the peanut gallery, I already know how stupid and mid-life crisis this is, thanks), she informs me that, while I have convinced her that I am a worthy candidate for her future husband (the only candidate, as far as I know) she'd rather have someone else.

What. The. Hell?

So now I have to completely sweep her off her feet.

Oh, wait…

Valentine's Day. I completely forgot.

Well, I have two weeks to plan this.

Any ideas, gentlemen?

**_Still More 31 January_**

Okay, have calmed down some. Started to apologize to Lily about the sadistic bitch comment until I realized that she had no occasion to even know I'd made it.

I hate this. It's hard. I'm not used to things being difficult.

And now I have to plan a sodding date. Damn it, I don't know what I'm going to do.

Must ask the lads.

**_Still Wednesday, 31 January _**

**_Approximately 1:25 p.m._**

**Mr. Padfoot would like to offer a suggestion for Mr. Prongs's Valentine's Day date with Miss Lily.**

Do I want to hear this or should I just tell you to shove it in advance?

**It would most benefit you to listen.**

**_Does this plan involve chocolate covered strawberries, whipped cream, and Lily in a black lace teddy?_**

**It might.**

I don't want to hear it. Or should I say read it?

****

**See what you did, Moony?! And you were wrong: the teddy was red, and there were no chocolate covered strawberries--there _was, _however, a heart-shaped hot tub... You know, to go with the whole Valentine's Day theme?**

It's something Lily would most certainly never agree to. I suggest that Mr. Prongs go the route of leading her into the Room of Requirement and having a dinner set up there or something.__

**Well, that's just stupid.**

I think it's nice.__

****

**Fine, side with him. Take the stereotypical Valentine's Day, sap-filled dinner.**

I intend to.

**But mine is more fun. Admit it, Prongs, you'd find something to do with whipped cream and a teddy.**

I'm burning this paper.

**_Thursday, 1 February_**

**_11:30 a.m., sitting in the Charms corridor, eating sandwich_**

**_Thirteen Days 'til V-Day_**

**__**

I never really date, as a general rule. Well, I date, but I don't like to go out on actual dates.

And do you know why?

Again, since you are an inanimate object, you obviously do not, so I'm going to tell you:

I'm terrified of girls.

Well, okay, let me clarify, because that sounds impossibly lame: I am terrified of being alone with girls.

It's no secret that I'm not exactly a sparkling conversationalist. In fact, I do believe Lily herself once referred to me as a 'superficial, charmless, shallow, mentally deficient pillock with the brain activity of a mold spore'.

At which time I pointed out that 'superficial' and 'shallow' mean almost exactly the same thing and she threw the closest thing to her—which happened to be her Ancient Runes dictionary, which happens to be the heaviest book known to mankind—at me, which pretty much proves her point.

Anyway, my point is that I can't talk to girls. I stutter, I blush, and sometimes I forget what I was about to say right in the middle of a sentence, and end up saying something like, "And so when Slytherin made their next goal I changed my socks today" which usually makes the girl stare at me for a good ten minutes until I realize my gaffe and apologize for being so dense.

And to add to that, I never know whether or not to pay. I have a lot of money; it's not a problem for me to pay for her Chocoball or coffee or butterbeer. I don't mind. I'm a generous person. Mostly. But there are always those girls who are fiercely independent and think it's misogynistic in some way for the boy to pay. So what I view as a nice gesture ends up being seen as some sort of intentional jab at the feminist movement.

Which makes me look like even more of an arse.

What was I talking about?

Oh. Right. My vehement dislike of the courting process.

Couple my inability to speak coherent English in the presence of a pretty girl with the fact that Lily Evans kinda makes me feel like throwing up every time I'm near her and there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to escape this date with all of my limbs intact.

I may have to flee the country.

**_2:00 p.m._**

Antarctica is nice this time of year, yeah?

**I don't think Antarctica is nice any time of year. Unless you like glaciers and fish. Which I know for a fact that you don't.**

****

I like penguins.

**Have you ever even seen a penguin?**

Of course.

**Anywhere besides pictures?**

Well, no. But I rather like the look of them.

**I know you too well; this can't be good for me.**

I might say the same about you.

**Remind me why I picked you for my best friend again.**

Because you admired my leadership skills, my cool wit, and my intellectualism.

**No, really.**

Because you thought I kinda looked like you and you're such a narcissist that you can't be friends with anyone less pretty than you.

**If I'm a narcissist then why would I want to befriend someone prettier than me? I would want to surround myself with people who are less pretty than me so as to make myself look more attractive than I already am.**

Are you saying I'm less pretty than you?

**I didn't say that.**

You implied it!

**Yes, but I didn't say it.**

You are in no way prettier than me.

**Yeah, except for the three hundred thousand ways that I am.**

You couldn't even think of three.

**Can too.**

Can not.

**Want to bet?**

Ten Galleons says you can't think of a hundred ways in which you are prettier than me.

**Give me a day and I'll give you two hundred.**

**_Friday, 2 February_**

**_7:30 a.m., Breakfasting on Cereal and Toast_**

**_12 Days 'til V-day_**

**__**

Padfoot came up with two hundred and two ways in which he's better than me.

And then asked to copy my Astronomy homework because he didn't have time to do his.

Where do I find these people?

**_Monday, 4 February_**

**_2:18 p.m., Potions_**

**_10 Days 'til V-Day_**

**__**

I have just noticed that whenever Lily looks my way her hand goes to her mouth. I'm pretty sure it's not a conscious thing—like me with my hair; I don't even realize I'm doing it until she snaps at me for it—but it's wickedly amusing. It obviously means that whenever she looks at me she imagines kissing me.

_Or maybe she's just trying to keep herself from vomiting._

I was not aware that I asked your opinion, Wormtail.

_You didn't have to. I'm perfectly happy to give it without invitation._

**_Oh, let him wallow in his delusions. _**

****

**Yeah, because come next weekend we'll probably be attending his funeral. **

****

**_Later_**

**_Having wrangled the book back from my so-called 'friends'_**

****

Seriously, where do I find these people?!

**_Tuesday, 6 February _**

****

**_Eight Days Until V-Day_**

Does anyone else notice how much "V-Day" sounds like "D-Day?"

Am very nervous about said day…I mean, the Room of Requirement is custom made for things like this, but what if someone else had the same idea? What if we walk in on…I don't know…someone shagging, for the love of God? Then Lily will think I led her straight into a sodding orgy. And then she will slap me and run off sobbing, and it'll be all over school that James Potter likes to watch other people in the middle of a shag session.

Oh my God, this is going to blow up in my face.

Moony, help me, I think I'm having premature heart flutters.

**_Later_**

****

**_Send her the note, Prongs._**

****

I can't.

**_Prongs, if you don't send her the note, she won't know about the date. And if she doesn't know about the date, the chances that she'll show up are very slim._**

****

And I think it'll be better for everyone that way. Really. I'll still have all of my senses, Lily won't have to pretend to listen to me babble about the laundry in our room or how weird it is that they make vodka out of potatoes, and you lot can go to sleep instead of following us around the castle.

**Prongs. Send the bleeding letter. **

I can't.

_Why?_

Because I'm scared.

**_What is she going to do to you? _**

****

She'll make me think that she wants to snog me in a broom cupboard—and I'll believe her, because I'm dim and idealistic and arrogant all at the same time, which is a really dangerous combination, if you think about it—and then when we get there she'll get really close to me and hiss, 'No one can hear you scream in the broom cupboard!' and, as if I'm testing it, I'll scream like a little girl—because that's how I scream—until she slits my throat. Because, obviously, she's cut my windpipe clean off and no sound will come out anymore.

**Give me the note, Prongs.**

Why?

**Because I'm doing it for you. Give it to me now.**

No!

**Why not?! You're not going to do it, and I'm getting very tired of having to listen to your stupid stories.**

My stories are not stupid.

**Give me the sodding letter, you daft git, before I take you to the broom cupboard.**

…Did you just hit on me?

**No. It was meant to tie in to your (very stupid) cupboard story. See? **

Oh. Right.

**Yes. Now give me the letter.**

No! She'll think it's you who wants to take her out, and then what if she goes and she expects it to be you, and then it's me, and she kills me and marries you?!

**Firstly: I think that proves how stupid your stories are.**

**Secondly: That would never happen.**

It very well could.

**Prongs, Lily Evans hates me more than she hates you. **

I know, and d'you know why?

**Because I went around with her knickers on my head that one time?**

Because she loves me. And also because you're an insufferable cad.

**Stop talking. Or, rather, give me your quill.**

_I think I need a lozenge. That cupboard story made my throat hurt._

**_Even later on Tuesday_**

****

I sent the note.

I sort of forgot to breathe as she was reading it and didn't notice I was turning purple until Wormtail stabbed me in the side with his quill and I went to yell at him and realized that I was on the verge of suffocation. Which was a very unpleasant experience; I don't recommend it.

**_Friday, 9 February_**

**_Five days 'till V-Day_**

**__**

Have barely had time to sleep in between Quidditch practice and classes and preparing for my date. Speaking of which, Lily has not come up to me with any papers barring me from coming within ten feet of her, which is good. And she's still doing the mouth thing, which is better.

**_Monday, 11 February_**

**_Three days 'till V-Day_**

Is it odd that whenever I pass the Astronomy tower I break into a cold sweat?

A/N: Yeah, I know: 'what took you so long?!' Not necessarily in this order: school, writers' block, compy problems, and other such RL stuff. And I'm working on "TDA", promise. Really, I am.

Next chapter is (obviously) the last. I know, try to hold in your tears. Life will go on. :)

The reviews are still omgsoawesome, and I love you all. Seriously. Thanks to…

**Christy Corr** (the second season premiere is, like, _way _too far away. You know, I still haven't seen the promo?), **taarspinkchcik1029 **(you realize that you spelled your own name wrong? ;), **Star19 **(you're probably back by now…obviously, if you're reading this, you are…), **Windowseat Wonderer, ThouandI** (I _did _win the awards, did I mention?! All of them, kind of. I tied for one, but won the rest of them. I owe every person who voted for a me a Cartier watch, because my self-esteem shot up, like, thirty two points that day. I cried a little), **True**, **walkingcensure **(I really liked "Habit", by the way—I'm so terrible at reviewing, I'm sorry—but I really liked it. Good on you, it made me smile :), **PeRkieGuRL, taiyourshoes** (My fellow quote person! Alexis, I think you're my favorite reviewer. S&M is, like…leather. Bondage. Stuff that I don't personally know about whatsoever. I did not expect 'ragamuffin' to catch on as it apparently has, but am pleased nonetheless. And, yes, long live the Chandler dance!!), **Adrienne** (I'm sorry you think it's too racy. Trust me, though, I could so be worse), **Cacrocks1** (dude, writing this made me want to rewrite "Deflating"), **Princess Pixie Ice** (thank you for voting!!), **Kalika **('this is bliss'—I really liked that, actually, and took it as a huge compliment. :), **Marauders Chick** (I think quotiness is a word. And I love James, too. He and Sirius really are my favorite characters. Lily _is _vindictive; I definitely can't see her taking stuff like that lying down. Go her), **MissMrprk, snickerdoodle10201, Senna2** ('Sirius's uppance has come'—that made me laugh), **Diabla666, Tintalu** (I figured no one really paid attention to the dates, because I never do in stories that I don't write. But there are some people who take their fic v. seriously and will be, like, omg you were off by a millisecond omg::spaz:: and…like, yeah. Plus, it bothered me how extremely terrible I truly am at math. I don't know why my teachers keep advancing me ;), **tta** (he wouldn't be _interesting _if he wasn't insane!!), **erieberrie **(thank you, and I _do _try to write quickly, but school really does take up a lot of time, esp. since I've started doing my homework), **Cho Ch** (::blushes:: thank you), **Irish Silhouette** (you don't have to apologize, I'm happy you reviewed at all. And I hope you enjoyed camp!), **cilverblood **(cool and awesome at the same time?! :), **Pineapple Queen1** (James being pathetic just makes him more real, to me at least. If he were good at everything and smooth and all that, no one would like him, and he'd be annoying, because no one is like that. But if he's a bit pathetic, you sit there going, 'God, I _know _people like that' and…yeah. That person is me. :) Anyway, going off on the tangent of side stories…please, feel free to do side stories on my stuff, just ask first. I would love if you'd write one, actually, and if you need anything—help, questions, whatever—email me and I'll be happy to…oblige, I guess), **Bananas and Talon, FrostQueen4eva, the-insufferable-know-it-all** (thank you!!), **Lunawolf **(again, don't apologize for going on fabulous vacations!! This goes for all of you: you should brag about all the lovely places you've been so I can live vicariously through you while I'm stuck in California, trying to stay out of the 104-degree heat. And I'm considering doing the Hangman bit as a one-shot, but I've got a lot of other stuff to do that will make itself known after "TDA" is over), **Green Zephyr** (I'd _hate _it if I had to do schoolwork for classes that I didn't even have to take for another three months or so. I'm just really lazy, and so yeah. I feel for you. :), **animalluvr75, flossie1** (my God, child, you are much braver than I, risking infection of the computer. lol, hope it all goes well—I didn't mean for that to rhyme, really—and that the virusing was minimal this time around), **Briana Marie** (Conquest is fun to write about. She'll probably show up later in the form of different girls, but with the same name…did that make sense? And congratulations on your nominations—I don't know why I keep rhyming; I can't write poetry to save my life but this is becoming an everyday occurrence, rhyming sentences), **martian doll, Kat44, Ideal Menagerie, Grimm Sister (**this is coming some sixteen-odd days after you reviewed…I hope that was fast enough and that your senior year goes swimmingly :), **Hermione Granger63, lizziee** (I may have mixed it up in "Deflating", because I italicized all the journal entries to avoid confusion…that's the only thing I can think of. I'm sorry if I did confuse you, though!), **Domlando Blonaghan** (I feel special! ::blushes:: And…I don't know. :) lol, they're just 'hits' as you called them because people seem to like them and if they keep liking them, I'll keep writing them. Because I need affirmation. Shower me with affection. ;) **R/Hr Fan** (I _do _read Georgia Nicolson, and love them. And I could see Prongsie calling Lily a Sex Goddess. If he got drunk enough. He might also think he has breasts on that occasion as well. :), and **erin**.****

I am missing "Rescue Me" for you guys. I will not get my fix of hot firemen this week.

…but that's okay. I don't mind, really. :)


	6. Varying Degrees of Brilliance

Stalking Lily Evans Chapter Six: Varying Degrees of Brilliance 

**Notes: **Spans chapters...16-20, with some extra stuff (as in after 20). 'Member, **Sirius writes in bold, _Remus in bold italics_**, blah, blah, so on and so forth.

This is the **last chapter**…as you could probably tell from the 16-20 and the fact that I said it was going to be in chapter 5…

Sunday, 15 February 

**_Approximately 11:30 a.m., hiding from my friends in the library_**

****

I've had some great nights, and I've had some bad ones. I've had nights where everything goes off without a hitch and I've had nights where I get my leg broken trying to run away from McGonagall. I've had nights where I sit up all night with my friends eating cake and having ridiculous conversations about strawberry ice cream and the female population of Hogwarts and I've had nights where I want to stick my head in a fireplace.

And where does my date with Lily rate on that spectrum, you ask?

Well, let's put it this way: my leg is fine and I can sit next to the fire without supervision.

That's right.

I am the greatest person ever. I took Lily Evans out last night and emerged with my reproductive organs secure and, to the best of my knowledge, working properly.

I feel like a gladiator. I have faced the lion and emerged triumphant. Only not as bloody. And without the whole death thing. And the costumes. Although I would look dashing in the cape. Not so much the armor, it's too clunky; it would overpower my lithe form.

I'm going off on weird tangents again.

They really need to make medications for this.

I could invent some.

But it'd take a lot of time and dedication that I simply do not have.

Anyway. Last night. Right.

So I was late. Like, really late. Like, thirty minutes late. I had gone to check on the Room of Requirement, but I'd finished that at 8:45 (I was supposed to meet her at nine). I was just standing outside of the common room, trying to make myself go inside. I was so nervous; my teeth were sort of chattering and I was babbling to myself. I was giving myself a pep talk, actually, pathetic as that sounds. It went a little bit like this:

"You can do this, Potter."

"No, I can't. I really, really can't."

"Yes, you can. You are attractive, you are athletic, you're devastatingly witty, you're charming, and Sirius is right, the glasses do give you an especially intellectual appearance."

"It's not real, though."

"No one else has to know that."

"She'll see through me. She'll enact that broom cupboard scenario, I know she will."

"What are the chances that she'll pick that way to kill you? Out of all the circumstances she's probably thought up about your death, what makes you think she'll use that one?"

"Self fulfilling prophecies!"

And so on. For almost an hour.

I can waste time for England.

When I finally went inside, she was going up the stairs. I panicked; she was leaving before our date had even started. I was convinced that I had ruined possibly my only chance with her because I like the sound of my voice so much. So I just blurted out something—I don't even know what I said, but it was apparently v. charming, as she turned around. She kinda looked angry at first, but then she saw the flowers I was holding and she smiled and actually called me charming.

I bet Moony about died from shock, as I had bet him two Galleons that the addition of the daisies to my dashing appearance and brilliant conversation skills would make her collapse in a fluttering heap at my feet.

I tried not to think about Moony too much though, as that would be a mood-killer. And I had not come this far only to have my one chance with the Girl of my Dreams dashed by my best friend's voice in my head saying sternly, "Yes, James, do just that with your tongue and we'll be set."

God, I hate my imagination.

Moving swiftly onward so as to rid myself of that image…

Lily and I set off for the Room of Requirement amidst the expected giggles and whistles and such. She didn't look at me at all as we were walking, but she did brush against me a few times. I think the first time she did it was by accident, but I'm convinced that all the times after that were her way of being coy and messing with me. I say this because the first time I felt her shoulders touch mine and the side of her right hand graze my leg, I lost all feeling…well, everywhere and I stumbled over my feet. She stopped to ask if I was all right, but when I'd regained both the ability to walk and my normal skin tone, I could hear these little sounds coming from her direction. Strangled laughter sounds.

Well, at least she had the decency not to laugh outright.

She complains a lot, Lily. Kept muttering about how if she knew she'd be hiking, she'd've worn different shoes, and casting doubt on my navigational skills and making a point to pull her hair out of her face and fan herself every time I stopped to consult the map because her proximity was making me so nervous that I kept forgetting which way was left and such.

Finally, around the fifth floor, I got so tired of her whinging that I offered to carry her.

She was quiet after that. I felt rather insulted. Am clearly v. manly; I could've carried her the whole way if I wanted to. I may have copped a feel while doing it, but I would've certainly gotten the job done.

We came to the portrait that marks the entrance to the Room (well, kinda—it's on the opposite wall, but that's how you would direct someone who'd never been there—'oh, you know the portrait of the troll ballerinas? It's right there') and I had to explain how to get in. So I took a little risk and leaned in much closer than was necessary and when I did, I heardher suck in this sharp breath.

My proximity was making her nervous.

I was so happy I accidentally let some of my spit sort of slide into her hair, but I think she was trying too hard not to show how my presence affected her to notice. Horrible moment, however, when I realized that that shiny little wet spot on her hair had come from my mouth.

Why is it, I wonder, that all of our encounters end up with my spit in places it has no right to be?

So anyway, we went in, and started eating. She is allergic to raspberries—she is allergic to raspberries; why did no one tell me this?!—so we had Chocolate Frogs instead, and so on.

The end of the night. I'm a bit afraid, thinking she might have poisoned my drink or might be leading me to the Broom Closet of Death…but she didn't. She let me walk her right up to the girls' staircase, and she kissed my cheek, and let me kiss hers—without stabbing me in the stomach when I leaned over.

All in all, it has been brilliant.

I am amazing. I deserve…I dunno, some sort of…prize.

An actual snog, for example.

**_Monday, 16 February  
Approximately...oh, I can't even care what time it is!_**

SHE SAID SHE'D THINK ABOUT IT!

She's just being coy; she's going to say yes.

"Hi, I'm James, and this is my girlfriend, Lily."

That sounds nice.

Really nice.

I'll ask her again after class.

Right after class.

Right.

**_Later_**

**_Transfiguration_**

****

Is she looking over here?

**_No._**

****

Does she look like she might look over here pretty soon, like she's looking just a little to check to make sure I'm not looking before she looks?

**_If I understood what the hell you just said, I'm sure the answer would still be no._**

****

Is she writing anything?

_Um, I think she's copying the notes. _

Padfoot, you look. You're closest to her.

**Yes, I am, and I would look, but I'm paralyzed by the fact that I don't care.**

Padfoot, look at my future girlfriend. Is she writing love letters to me? Is she writing "Mrs. James Potter" in curly letters with hearts around it? Is she drafting a marriage proposal?

**She's not you, Prongs.**

I know, but we have such a connection that I feel she and I could have the same doodling habits. Just look, please?

**She's not.**

She's not? She's not…she's not writing love letters, she's not doing the notes, she's not brushing her teeth, what is she not doing?!

**She's not doing anything, in point of fact.**

She probably realized that I was looking—or sending you to look—and put away her "I Love James Potter" paper.

_Yes, Prongs, I'm sure that's exactly what she did._

**_Even later_**

**_Approximately 1:00 p.m._**

**_Mr. Moony wishes to inquire as to what happened when Mr. Prongs's fellow Marauders made the mistake of leaving him alone with Miss Lily._**

**Yes, because Mr. Moony hissing instructions into Mr. Prongs's ear is enough to make any girl throw off her clothes and say, "Take me, I'm yours!"**

**_That was really long winded and kinda pointless._**

**Kinda was, wasn't it?**

**_Anyway, Prongs?_**

Mr. Prongs declines to comment.

_On?_

Anything.

**Oh, come off it, Prongs! We've been helping you with this girl for, like, six months. She's like our little project as well. We're entitled to hear what happened.  
**  
You're not entitled to anything. And she's not a project. She's a person. A very beautiful, intelligent--

**She's not here, Prongs.**

Yeah, but every time I say or write something pricky, it comes back to bite me in the arse, so I'm not taking any chances.

**_Yes, James, stop karma before it starts. Spiffing plan._**

Whatever. And why'd you call me by my birth-given name?  
**_  
I am annoyed that you won't just tell us what happened._**

**Just tell us. We'll find out anyway.**

Are you living vicariously through me?

**Wormtail and Moony, maybe, but Padfoot has his own social life. A much more successful one, at that. Padfoot knows how to handle his girls.**

See, this is why I can't get anywhere with Lily-- I spend too much time with you.  
**  
Don't say anything you'll regret on your wedding day, Prongs. Best man, remember?**

Padfoot, at the rate you're going, you'll be lucky to be invited to my wedding. You know, on the off chance I'll ever have a wedding.

**_Oh, shut up, Prongs, you'll have a wedding._**

I'm still not telling you.

**_In that case, you will die a lonely, lonely man with 67 cats._**

****

****

**_Later still_**

**_Approximately 9:00 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

Got my snog.

More later, when I regain feeling in my limbs.

Her lipstick tastes plasticky.

**_Early Tuesday morning_**

**_3:49 a.m., Bathroom_**

****

Can't sleep.

Still keep replaying that scene in my head over and over, and I can actually feel her gripping my arm and I can hear her sigh all contentedly when I put my hand in her hair.

She has really nice hair. 'Course, I already knew that, from staring at it for three-some odd years. But it feels really nice, too. Just like I thought it would.

Am still in shock.

Okay, this is how it happened:

I asked her again if she would go out with me. After some obvious deliberation on her part, she said 'no'. Was v. disappointed—and a bit angry—before I realized that, of course, she was lying. And it really wasn't me being arrogant this time!

So I sorta just…kissed her. Kind of.

Well, she looks so pretty when she's lying to me (v. disturbing, actually), and she was holding my hand (I'm still not quite clear on how that happened) and…she kissed back! She did; I was definitely not imagining it this time.

Was lovely. Well, okay, there were less-than-perfect parts, like the thirty or so times she stepped on my toes, gripped my arm so tightly she left little half-moon marks, and kneed me in the shin on accident when we broke apart, but it was still quite nice. All right, and it wasn't just her—her hair got caught on my watch, so when I pulled my hands out of her hair I also pulled out some hair, but she didn't even flinch. I think she was too surprised. I was certainly surprised.

Speaking of pulling away, I did first. Not because I wanted it to end (oh, quite the contrary—I've said 'quite' far too many times, I'm just realizing) but I couldn't breathe and everything was getting hazy in my head and I was sort of going numb, like, everywhere, and I didn't think it would bode well for our relationship for me to pass out as she was kissing me for the first time (I'm thinking that we won't count that time in January, right before Transfiguration. I doubt the proclamation of love on that occasion will count, either).

So…there it is.

I don't know what to do now.

Are we dating?

Will there be snogging on a regular basis?

I'm terrified to go down to breakfast, which I will have to do in about three hours. I'm sure she'll punch me in the face.

**_Later on Tuesday _**

**_2:30 p.m., Herbology_**

****

**Well, this is Sirius. James is skiving off because he doesn't 'feel up to attending classes at the moment' (read: "I'm scared of Lily Evans, please keep me out of her way until she forgets that I assaulted her tonsils with my tongue or I die, whichever comes first") and I have been ordered to take careful notes on Miss Evans's movements and try to see how they relate to him.**

**I, of course, am not going to do such a thing.**

**I shall use this time/space for something much more worthwhile: hangman.**

**_No. No, no, and no._**

****

**You are no fun whatsoever.**

**_I don't take pleasure in Peter's pain, so I suppose I'm not any fun by your standards._**

****

**And it's high time you started admitting it. Good for you, Moony; progress is clearly being made. **

**_Your kind words have just given me new hope for my future. I could never thank you enough._**

**So…you don't want me to hurt Peter…**

**_I really would prefer that you didn't._**

****

_As would I._

****

**What about you, Moony? You could play me. You always say that you have a vocabulary bigger than four very big things.**

**_No._**

****

_It's actually good fun, Moony._

**Yes, it is, you tell him, Wormtail. **

**_Peter, the last time you played Hangman with him, he tried to maul you. _**

****

_Yes, but aside from that, it was quite a lark. _

**_He tried to maul you._**

**__**

_I remember._

**_You were in the hospital wing for four days!_**

****

_I'm still making up the homework._

**_I had to tell Pomfrey you fell on a fork._**

****

_I thought it was a great story. _

**_Thirty-six times!_**

****

_Well, that bit was stretching it a little._

**Come on. Play with me, play with me, play with me. **

**_No. Stalk Lily like you promised you would._**

****

**I promised nothing. **

**_James is probably sitting in his room counting down the seconds until you get back so you can tell him what Lily's been doing. Can you imagine the look of disappointment on his face when he realizes that you shirked your best friend-ly duties?_**

****

**1. I fully agree that James is probably awaiting my return, but that is only because he has an unhealthy attachment to me. Do you see the way his face lights up when he sees me?**

**2. "Best friend-ly duties"? I do believe you just made that up. You're taking liberties with the English language, Moony. And what happens to people who take liberties with the English language, according to you?**

_They die a painful, fiery death at the hands of the writers of the Oxford dictionary._

**_Don't change the subject. _**

****

**I don't think we're the ones changing the subject.**

**_Sirius. James asks so very little of you. _**

****

**"SO VERY LITTLE"?!!!!!**

**_Please refrain from using multiple exclamation points. You know how much they hurt my eyes._**

****

**I felt they were necessary to get my point across.**

**_Your point being?_**

****

**That James asks so very much of me.**

**_Examples are necessary._**

****

**He made me break up with The Lovely Catherine because she bothered him.**

**_Firstly: he didn't "make" you do anything. You broke up with The Lovely Catherine because James's opinion means a lot to you, and you couldn't stand the fact that he didn't like her. Secondly: he didn't like her because she was always coming on to him. _**

****

**I still say he was making that up. The Lovely Catherine would never sink to the level of the girls who like James.**

**_So Lily is below The Lovely Catherine?_**

****

**Ah, I wouldn't say that. I'd just say that she's a few Gobstones short of a set.**

**_She's crazy for liking James?_**

****

**No, she's crazy for thinking there's something wrong with liking James.**

_I don't get it._

**Don't get what?**

_You just said that The Lovely Catherine wouldn't sink to the level of girls who like James. But then you said that Lily—who obviously likes James—is crazy for doing so, for thinking there's something wrong with it. I don't get it. You're contradicting yourself._

**The girls who usually like James like him because he's a bloke they can like, not a bloke they can love. You know? They know they'll never get anywhere with him. They know that, if he does pay attention to them, it won't be for very long. That's what makes them below The Lovely Catherine. The Lovely Catherine is a relationship junkie; she loves that long-term attachment and seeks it with everyone she meets. But Lily thinks that James isn't a good person because of this, because she doesn't realize that his lack of enthusiasm toward the other girls is because of his complete emotional attachment to her. That's what makes her insane. It's all very complicated and boring, actually. **

**_How do you know all that?_**

****

**James tells me everything, first of all, and second of all, when you spend much of your free time spying on girls, you tend to overhear their conversations. **

_Interesting._

**_Wednesday, 18 February_**

**_1:00 a.m._**

****

Am Sex God.

Have beautiful, snoggable, cotton candy tasting girlfriend.

Love self. Am equally beautiful and snoggable, though taste less like cotton candy and more like sausage had for dinner.

Oh, that's deeply unpleasant. Poor girlfriend.

Can't care too much.

Have girlfriend. Life is complete. Need nothing else. Could be homeless, smelly, and have horrible toe fungus, and Lily Evans would still be my girlfriend.

Well, maybe not if I had toe fungus.

Perhaps if I had an incapacitating drug habit.

Yes. She would still be my girlfriend if I had an incapacitating drug habit.

Because obviously drugs are more fun than toe fungus.

**_Monday, 17 February 1976_**

**_2:27 p.m., Transfiguration_**

**Things I Like About James Potter**

--The way your smile is a little bit bigger on the left side.

--How you always smell like outside. I almost want to say you smell like wind, but wind doesn't really have a smell, does it?

--The way you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose when you're concentrating.

--How much you hate it when I cry. It makes me feel like you'd do anything to make me stop crying.

--How you almost always put your hands in my hair when you kiss me.

--The way you kiss me.

--How your hair never looks the same two days in a row.

--The way there is always something wrong with your clothes: your shirt is misbuttoned or your tie is loose or your shirt is untucked or your socks don't match. Just so you know, today your Head Boy badge is pinned on upside down. Though that may be something one of your friends did; I can't tell.

--The freckles under your eyes.

-- How you correct yourself when you realize you've said something stupid. Or something you think is stupid. And then you get flustered and confused and start talking entirely in fragments.

--How you're not afraid to correct me or question my logic when Isay something stupid (which is never) or something you think is stupid (much more commonplace).

--Your sense of humor. You can make a joke out of anything, you know that? I don't know many people who can do that quite like you can.

--The way you start speaking slower and your voice gets deeper when you're serious. Or flirting with me. Sometimes it's hard to tell the two apart.

--One word: persistence.

--You stand up for what you believe in, and that is an admirable quality.

There are certainly more things, but I simply can't remember them right now because I'm under pressure. Your friends are making a complete joke out of this and it's making me blush, because a lot of what they're saying is quite funny, and you trying to make them shut up is even funnier.

Affectionately,

Lily

**_Monday, 26 March_**

**_5:45 p.m., Dormitory_**

****

Note to self: practice taking clothes off with eyes closed.

Tripping over pants and falling into wall is v. unattractive and ruins mood.

Have sizeable bruise on shoulder, stubbed toe, laceration on arm, and ripped pants. Lily laughed. A lot. So much so that, even though had pants off and was wearing best shorts, she could not bring herself to stop laughing long enough to snog me senseless.

Am surly.

**_Sunday, 1 April_**

**_Approximately 8:00 p.m., Dormitory once again_**

****

Girlfriend is kleptomaniac.

Am missing half of wardrobe.

Have no clean clothes for tomorrow because she has them all.

She says she likes them because they smell like me, and they fit nice. Which is all well and good—I can understand her wanting to have smell of me close to her all the time, and also, oversized fit of clothes tells everyone she has boyfriend. Also, Mum writes my name on the tags of my clothes, so if some amorous boy decides to try to…I dunno, take advantage of her while she is wearing my clothes, he can read the name on the tag and he'll say, "Oh, you're James Potter's girl? I'm sorry, I didn't realize" and back off.

Because am obviously v. intimidating.

**_Tuesday, 23 April  
9:39 p.m._**

**Mr. Padfoot is of the opinion that if Mr. Prongs and his girlfriend want to fight within a sixty-mile radius of human life, they should provide earplugs.**

**_Mr. Moony suggests a Soundproofing Charm._**

**Mr. Padfoot counters with earplugs enchanted with a Soundproofing Charm. Therefore, Mr. Padfoot wins.**

_Mr. Wormtail wishes to ask how long it's been since the royal couple got together.  
_  
**Mr. Padfoot says two months. Mr. Prongs is marking it off on Mr. Padfoot's Veelas on the Beach calendar. Did Miss Lily take Mr. Prongs's boxers again? Because if he doesn't want her to have his, she's welcome to some of Mr. Padfoot's.**

**_Mr. Moony thinks Mr. Padfoot should keep his boxers away from Miss Lily._**

_Keep them away from Mr. Wormtail as well, if we're going to discuss this now._  
**  
Oh, Wormtail.**

_What?_

**Nothing. That just sounded like it deserved an "Oh, Wormtail".**

_Hold on, what's she saying?_

**Mr. Padfoot thinks Miss Lily is breaking up with our friend Prongs again.**

**_How come?_**

_Mr. Wormtail's money says that Miss Lily found the bottle of whipped cream Mr. Padfoot hid under Mr. Prongs's bed two weeks ago._

**Hey, Mr. Padfoot put a Preservation Charm on it. It should still be okay.**

**_Does Prongs know you put whipped cream under his bed?_**

**Mr. Padfoot is just trying to help out a friend; Mr. Prongs does not have to thank Mr. Padfoot. Mr. Padfoot would offer whipped cream to his other fellow Marauders, but as they haven't had dates since fifth year, he feels this offer would be a waste of his generosity.**

_Oh, here they come--they're snogging. Mr. Wormtail is going to bed, as he has a weak stomach.  
**  
Mr. Moony agrees.**_

**Mr. Padfoot wonders if there is any whipped cream left.**

**-----------**

**A/N: **Ah, the end of one story. I do not know when "TDA" will be finished, as it is currently being v. mean to me. But I can promise that I am working on it.

I hope you liked this story, because I did…a lot. It was a joy to work on, really.

And you are all joyous as well!!!! 484 favorites listers, 246 reviews…for this little thing. I love you all. Really. You make me laugh and there's really nothing like seeing a whole list of people who like what you do.

And I'd like to thank you all individually……

**Pixie Wildfire, babeephatangel, FrostQueen4eva, Christy Corr, tta** (I assure you, if I ever finish "TDA", you will have _plenty _to read…all I'll say on the subject. Probably), **girlknight, lizziee** (I write how I talk, but I have no clue if I'm funny in person. Ask my friends), **Lunawolf **(men are insane. But women are equally so, just in different ways), **little-angel123452000,** **ThouandI, snickerdoodle10201, Lily Thorne, Cacrocks1** (I hope James's triumph is satisfactory), **Marauders Chick** (have you ever read a book called "Frindle"? In it, this guy starts calling a pen a 'frindle', and eventually the frindle fervor reaches the point where the word is actually added to the dictionary. I think we could do that with 'quotiness', my friend), **Bananas and Talon** (I do believe vodka is made of potatoes. I read it somewhere, or saw it on TV or something. I don't know how I know this stuff), **MissMrprk** (oh, I'm sorry if I brought you to tears), **Leap of fate** (oh, the spit thing wasn't endearing to you? ;), **martian doll (**multiple awesomes! It's my favorite word, or at least the one I use most often. Actually, my favorite word is 'squiffy', for reasons unbeknownst to me ;), **HarrysPotter **(thank you very much for the originality compliment),** R/Hr Fan** (I am equally hopeful for a "TDA" update. I have 10 pages, I wrote out an outline, but I really don't like how it's going), **Princess Pixie Ice, Anna N. O'Muss** (the broom cupboard thing did prove quite popular; I'm glad you liked it. I never know what you lot will respond to), **Senna2 **(the 'you write guys really well' comment is always my favorite to hear, so thank you for it), **flossie1** (I hope your brother's computer is well, and that it hasn't been thrown at you :), **Luna-Elentari, Kat44** (that is my favorite kind of math, the reviews ;), **walkingcensure, cilverblood** (I have noticed that the Pricky!James-es of the fanfic world are either just horribly mean or flat and kinda boring and unfunny. I'm happy you see me as an exception), **Mafioso **(oh, thank you!), **KClover319 **(::blush::), **Grimm Sister** (I'm sorry, I don't make you wait long on purpose :), **clothespeg-rules, Cho Ch,** **Pineapple Queen1** (love SQ and shiver at the thought of being lumped amongst their greatness. If I were to even think of submitting any of this to that site, though, it would have to go under some serious renovation), **Irish Silhouette** (I'm…really not that interesting in real life. I don't know why people want to meet me so much),** Christa **(did he really seem confident? Wow, I screwed that one up brilliantly. I had no direction when I wrote that story, really), **Quack Quack 88** (oh, thank you!), **Windowseat Wonderer, SnoopyViz, draca8u, Briana Marie, erin** (I am sorry it took so long. School, lack of inspiration, etc. are to blame), **siriusforeva, Anonymous miss, Pingu** (I'm sorry you were depressed, but glad to have done something to make you feel better :), **ObsessiveBookworm **(rambling is normal. I thank you for your faith in my future :), and** theromaniqueoddball**.

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